


Of Nowhere and Neverwhen

by Kayka



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Fantasy, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayka/pseuds/Kayka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*** On Indefinite Hiatus*** In which Jareth never cared, and Sarah ate peaches in defiance. Illusions are pretty things, after all. Sareth. Buckle up, kiddies. We're going on an adventure filled with magic, snark and sass, monsters, chases, escapes, mischief, mayhem, and maybe even true love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Boney King of Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Yes, yes, I know. Not mine. It pains me physically. Mhmm. Oh right, you’re here for a story.

 

**Prologue: The Boney King of Nowhere**

* * *

Sarah scrabbled up off the soft, loamy earth and _ran_. There was _something_ in these black woods, and _it_ was chasing her.

Her lungs burned, and she was developing a stitch in her side. Thin branches lashed out at her leaving welts in their wake. The crashing, crunching of something heavy barreling through the underbrush was just behind her now. Snarling breath puffed against the shell of her ear. Suddenly, the _thing_ fell back in its pursuit.

She ran all the faster.

It had been broad daylight at her apartment, but _here_ it was night. How she longed for that cramped place, even with its leaky sink, rowdy neighbors, and evil door knob.

The undeniable pulse of magic from the vicinity of Sarah's left hand brought her to focus.

She wasn't sure what she was running from- or where she was running to- but Sarah was certain that stopping to moon over the presently unattainable could very well mean her death.

After an eternity and no time at all, she broke free of the tree line, stumbling over the detritus and prickly bramble in the wastes beyond forest. As if she had passed through some unseen barrier, the intense compulsion _to get away_ faded. But if she was where she thought she was, she really could not take it for granted that the predator had not pursued her. Her frantic flight brought her to a rocky outcropping where she hoped to pause to catch her breath. Just when Sarah thought she was free of the perils of the forest, she was snared by an ancient broken branch.

Unable to stop her forward momentum, Sarah flung her arms up and braced for an impact that was infinitely softer than she anticipated.

Strong hands steadied her even as her own pressed against a leanly muscled chest. She stilled as she recognized the sigil there, hanging on its braided leather thong. She swallowed thickly, dreading to glance up but inexorably drawn to all the same.

He looked down at her, though not as far down as he once had, his head tilted, one brow cocked imperiously.

He spoke then, and she could feel the seductive rumble of it through the fingers still lingering on his shirt. The tone was light, if not outright smugly mocking.

"Well, well, if it isn't Saoirse Wilkins."

* * *

  **A/N:** Fan art for this story can be found on my deviantart account linked in my profile. The chapters will get longer, but these first few are a tad infuriatingly short. Sorry. Chapter Reference: In pitch dark, I go walking in your landscape/ Broken branches trip me as I speak/ Just ‘cause you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there/ Just ‘cause you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there. –Radiohead, “There, There”


	2. Must Be Thursday

**Chapter 1: Must Be Thursday**

* * *

 

_August 12, 1993_

Sarah Williams was no stranger to odd occurrences. Her life seemed to be comprised of general weirdness with intermittent glimpses of the 'normality' that she assumed ordinary people enjoyed. It was easier to simply accept that strange things happened around her and there was little she could do to change it.

Sarah was not crazy. She knew this just as she knew that on a clear day the sky was blue, that the current president was something of a jazz musician, and that she probably ought not pump her little brother full of candy before returning him safely home to his parents. She also knew, was totally and completely certain, that the doorknob to her apartment was out to get her.

To the untrained eye, and perhaps even to the magically attentive eye, the handle appeared completely unremarkable. Some sort of silverish metal. Normal five pin tumbler. Twisted in the two directions that it should. It was completely ordinary, until she tried to use it.

"Owhellshit!"

 _Well, that's new_.

Normally, the damnable thing just shocked her. This time though, it had somehow managed to _stab_ her.

"I'm replacing you first thing tomorrow."

The knob sat unrepentant. She had been issuing this same idle threat for months now.

Sarah gingerly made her way into her apartment, keeping an eye out for whatever stray bit of metal had deemed it necessary to perforate her finger. She was vaguely annoyed when the door handle appeared as smooth as it ever had, and nothing sharp presented itself.

Her purse and shopping bags were unceremoniously dumped on the couch as she went to perform what promised to be later be recounted as a tale of major surgery on her hand. It wouldn't do to get blood all over Toby's birthday present after all. And if she had managed to get any on it, well, at least she would have a story to tell.

Sarah's battle wound was not all that bad once she cleaned away the welling blood: just a tiny prick that did not even need to be bandaged.

_I really do need to look into replacing that doorknob, though. Especially if it's come up with a new way to ruin my life. Ah. Put Toby's present away before it gets inexplicably eaten by the couch. Right._

Toby's birthday wasn't for months but the leather gauntlet had almost called to her. It seemed to be in immaculate condition, considering she had found it in a thrift store downtown. Not that the future nine year old would care. He would be running around in the back yard with it, imagining epic battles of knights and kings. In fact, he would probably like it even more if it were a bit scuffy around the edges.

The glove was warm brown leather, broken in, but by no means worn. The bracer part was gorgeously tooled, except for a conspicuously blank area two-thirds of the way up. Now that she looked at it, _really_ looked at it, the bracer seemed as though it were missing a piece. Perhaps it was not in as great a condition as she had previously thought. Curious fingers reached out to trace the negative space, and Sarah had to fight down sudden dizzying nausea. She gripped the arm rest of the sofa, Toby's present dropped and forgotten beside her.

She waited, but the feeling didn't pass.

 _Something's wrong_.

Blood thrummed in her ears as she was inundated by roaring whispers. The room spun away into a sea of blinding white, and Sarah knew no more. Until-

* * *

 

" _You_! Goblin King!"

Of all the things she could have said at this meeting seven years in the making, she naturally picked the most clichéd exclamation of surprise possible. Sarah almost wanted to roll her eyes at herself. The Goblin King's indulgently patronizing smile was not helping matters, either. In that instant, she wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off his face.

"And it's _Sarah,_ " she spat. "Williams," was added nearly in afterthought. Had she really left so fleeting an impression on him that he had not bothered to remember her name?

She jerked away from him. Or tried to. The hands that held her loosely moments ago were now vices at her shoulders. His grip was not painful, but he made it blatantly apparent that she would not be leaving unless he willed it. There went her plans for a strategic retreat shot to hell.

"Ah, ah. I caught you fair and square, Selah-mine. What would be the fun in releasing you and letting the rabble have another chance?"

It was _possible_ she misheard him that time, but twice in as many minutes felt incredibly unlikely. It was also entirely possible that he was being an ass. The more she thought about it, and it irked her that she _was_ thinking about it, the latter seemed more and more plausible. Probable, even. From the little she knew of his character, he did seem the type that would butcher her name just enough to make her question whether or not she was hearing things.

 _Didn't he do the very same to poor Hoggle? He wasn't exactly subtle about it then, though._ _Wait, what else did he say? It doesn't matter_ what _he calls me as long as I can get back home and away from this awful place._

"Though, upon further reflection-"

Sarah paled as her brain caught up with his words.

"You mean that wasn't _you_?"

The rat bastard had the gall to toss his head and laugh. Were it not so infused with mocking, it might have been an attractive sound.

"You seem to be suffering under a gross misapprehension as to your importance."

The derisive smile melted into a derisive sneer as Jareth released her, and she very nearly tripped the other way across the branch.

"Why would _I_ bother chasing the likes of _you_ anywhere?"

Of course, she never truly believed the bit about the king falling in love with the girl; it was just a fairy story after all. But to hear him, the villain she had railed against so ardently in her youth, suggest that Sarah Williams was completely unremarkable, stung far more than she thought it should. She had beaten him _and_ his stupid game. This latter thought incited her ire.

"Just what the hell is going on? Why did you bring me here?"

The flash of revulsion in his glare was enough to make her question her assumptions.

" _Me_? I did no such thing. You obviously brought yourself."

When she stared at him incredulously, Jareth nodded pointedly to her left arm.

 _Oh,_ Sarah thought.

"Oh," Sarah voiced aloud.

She had felt the weight on her skin from the moment she appeared in this strange place, but as she had been running for her life, taking time to examine it had not been at the top of her list of priorities.

The glove she had intended to give Toby was now snugly encompassing her own hand. It had changed, though. Seeing it now made her realize how much _less_ it had been before. No longer was it merely a fantasy replica of pretty stitching and tooled leather. Metal had been worked into the fingers, and the joints with their pointed tips put Sarah in mind of dragon's claws. One fine, gold thread laced the eyelets, holding the whole construction together on the underside. The spot that had once been blank also sported something now. It was vague and hard to make out in the darkness, though; she would have to wait until day to examine the changes more thoroughly.

She should have known from the very start, but the glove's pull had been so subtle in the store, and even in her apartment, that she never recognized that her enthrallment was anything more sinister than whimsy and general interest. She comforted herself by being grateful that _she_ had been the one to trip whatever the glove's trigger was, rather than Toby. Though, if it had been intended for her from the beginning-

"Will it at least give me magical powers?"

Jareth snorted. "Hardly."

Inner five-year-old thwarted, Sarah attempted to pull the glove and its bracer off. It refused to budge. She tried unlacing the thread only to find that it started re-lacing as soon as she moved on to the next section.

Sarah knew fairytales. The poor sod that found himself in possession of and ensnared by a magical artifact didn't get to traipse free. She had somehow activated an obligation to the old, leather gauntlet and would have to fulfill its terms before she would be released.

She turned her eyes back to the Goblin King's to find him looking back at her with measured disinterest.

"What do have to do to get this off, and how do I get back home?" She asked with a calmness she did not feel.

"It's quite the mess you've gotten yourself into this time, Sweetling, throwing down the gauntlet."

She waved the gloved hand in annoyance. "You think I did this on purpose? I never even put the damned thing on."

"Ever the martyr. I suppose you'll be complaining about fairness next?"

The conversation was wearing on her and any residual adrenaline effects from her midnight flight were fading rapidly.

"Goblin King, _please_. I've been dragged from my apartment, chased halfway across the Underground, and now, for some unfathomable reason, seem to be having a quaint chit-chat with my adolescent nemesis. I'm not having a good day. Can't you just give me a straight answer, for once?"

"I could," he inclined, crossing his arms over his chest, "but it would cost you."

Sarah groaned in frustration as she ran her free hand through her hair.

"What could I have that you would possibly want?"

He was doing that head-tilt-speculative-look thing that made her think inappropriate thoughts. Whether those thoughts lent themselves toward throttling him or kissing him was left unexamined.

"A dash of time, a drop of blood, a dream," Jareth shrugged but then clicked his tongue as though a thought had just occurred to him. His grin was just short of feral. "Or, perhaps, _a favor_."

Sarah's face burned.

"To be collected later," he nodded.

And then, Jareth, King of the Goblins, _winked_.

The oscillations between cold and hot were going to give her whiplash at this rate. She wasn't sure if he was being intentionally salacious simply to get a rise out of her, or if he was being intentionally salacious over an _innocuous_ sort of favor to fluster her and make her misinterpret his words. Regardless, the cost for information was certain to outweigh the benefit of having a couple of measly questions answered.

"So that's it, then? I have to agree to your terms, and you'll answer my questions, and then I'm left with some kind of an open-ended debt to you?"

He looked away, haughtily.

"Different game, different rules."

"Thanks, but no thanks, Goblin King."

"Suit yourself." The 'but we both know you're going to have to agree eventually if you ever want to get this over with and go home again' was tactfully left unsaid.

Sarah had forgotten how absolutely infuriating he could be.

"If that's all the help you're going to be, then you can just leave," the young woman snapped.

Jareth's odd, glittering eyes darted back to hers. If she had thought him hot and cold before, this was a swing from luke-warm to absolute zero.

The king bowed then, his derision palpable.

"As you wish."

And Sarah was once again alone in the dark night of a strange land, not knowing whether to go forward, left, or right but knowing well enough not to go _back_.

She rather eloquently summed up her thoughts on her predicament, "Well, shit."

A thought occurred to her as she stood indecisive, puzzling out her path. If she were really so unimportant, why had the King of the Goblins been there to break her fall in the first place?

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title Reference: "This must be Thursday," said Arthur to himself, sinking low over his beer. "I never could get the hang of Thursdays." -Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy


	3. Tick-Tock Starts the Clock

**Chapter 2: Tick-Tock Starts the Clock**

* * *

 

_June 24, 1987_

"Go, Rah-rah! Go! Down, down, down!"

Sarah tapped her finger to her chin in mock consideration.

"I don't know, what do you say, Toby?"

The boy frantically rocked side to side in his seat.

"Peas! Peas!"

She could already hear the music of his favorite show starting in the living room. It would be cruel to make him wait any longer.

"All right then," she nodded, "I can't argue with that. You can get down now."

"Go! Go! Go!"

Toby slid from his booster seat at the kitchen table, bolting away as soon as his feet touched the ground.

At sixteen, Sarah did not understand the toddler's need to run full tilt _everywhere_. His penchant for running was only exacerbated any time he heard the first bars of a tune that urged him to ' _dance your cares away.'_

The mad dash from the dining room ended as the boy jerked to a halt before the television set. His elder sister closed the gap at a far more sedate pace and found him already bouncing along with the music.

"Gawbin sho! Gawbin sho!" He shouted, in acknowledgement to her arrival.

_This_ was the part that she didn't really want to condone.

" _Fraggles,_ Toby. _Not_ goblins. Goblins aren't nice. And they don't dance or sing."

It had been cute when she thought he was trying to say, 'Gobo,' but when 'Gobo' became 'Gawbo' became 'Gawbin,' she grew mildly concerned over his apparent fascination with the denizens of the Underground.

Sarah conceded, only to herself, that they resembled the goblins of the Labyrinth in the most superficial ways: wide eyes, adorably ugly, and prone to misadventure. The Fraggles were much more colorful, though.

_Perhaps they could be goblins if a goblin and one of the Fire Gang had a love-child made of felt. And at least the Fraggles don't remove their limbs and play with them._

"Gawbin," the child insisted stubbornly. His argument crumbled before he could make any further assertions; the boy was far too mesmerized by the moving pictures and catchy tunes.

And thus began twenty-two minutes of not having to keep track of a rambunctious toddler. When it was over, though, Toby expressed his displeasure by throwing toys. _Surely,_ she thought, _normal children his age are not so boisterous._

When Sarah did not immediately acknowledge his temper, Toby started throwing toys _at_ things. And really, his aim was impeccable. The picture frame tipped off the mantle, and the glass shattered into hundreds of pieces upon meeting the marble base of the fireplace.

The boy froze. Even at two and a half, he knew that he had done a not-very-good thing.

He affected a guise of innocent and adorable, making a valiant effort to utilize his cuteness. Perhaps he had some untapped, latent magical powers, after all.

"Oops!"

'Oops' was his new favorite word because Toby knew he could use it to stay out of trouble with dad and Karen. If he turned up the toddler charm, he usually got away with murder where they were concerned. Karen was starting to cotton on to this fact, though, and his days of unchecked mischief were likely numbered.

Sarah sighed, knowing that there was some sort of hard-won lesson to be communicated here.

"Toby, it's not 'oops' if it's on purpose."

* * *

 

The second thread came with sunrise.

It had been the pulse of magic that gave her pause. Sarah examined Toby's former-present-that-he-would-never-see-and-that-she-planned-on-burning-as-soon-as-it-came-off-her-arm and found a second golden string. It twinkled innocuously in the morning twilight, twisting and intertwining with the first as though it had been there all along. She did not delude herself into thinking she had simply missed seeing it the night before. There _had_ been only one thread binding the gauntlet to her arm, and now there were _two_. What really bothered her, however, was the upper portion on the arm of the glove that stubbornly remained vague to her eyes, despite the foggy day bringing dim, but adequate, lighting.

Sarah trudged along, cold, and tired, and hungry. The rocky desolation had given way to marshy swampland just before dawn. Sarah was naturally reminded of the Bog of Eternal Stench, in as much as it was filled with stale air, and she could not trust her footing. There was also the fact that she did not want chance taking a dip in the water or attempting to drink from it, even to soothe her parched throat. While the stench of decaying organic matter was far from pleasant, it paled in comparison to the bog in the Labyrinth. And this bog-land was greener, mistier, and mossier.

By this point, Sarah had been traveling for hours. She certainly hoped she had more than thirteen for this little game, or she was likely going to _lose_. Really, she wanted to know what the hell kind of game she was supposed to be playing; she didn't know the rules or object and was saddled with an apparently useless magical artifact.

_The Goblin King said it was a game, didn't he?_ _Something about throwing down the gauntlet? I know it's supposed to be a challenge, but of what? I don't see any angry villagers lined up to throw rocks and spoiled cabbages at me as I run past._

Jareth completely denied responsibility for bringing her here, but she _knew_ this debacle had to tie back to him. She somehow doubted that the King of the Goblins normally hung around in the middle of nowhere, with neither his castle nor his Labyrinth anywhere in sight. Her current mess being his fault was the only logical explanation as to why he was the first, and so far only, being she had encountered on this little jaunt Underground.

_Though,_ she thought, _the last time I tried using logic in the Underground, I ended up in a stuffy, pitch dark hole._

She had seen no one since the Goblin King's grand exit the night prior. Sarah felt eyes upon her at times but spotted nothing more threatening than a squirrel. At least, her eyes had told her it was a squirrel, but that could simply be because she expected it to be a squirrel.

_Right, Sarah, remember where you are. Nothing is as it seems, and therefore innocuous-looking fauna are likely terrifying instruments of chaos and mayhem. No big deal._ She managed to feel a teensy bit jipped that everything appeared so _ordinary,_ and that, in a perfectly good boggy environment, there were no will-o-the-wisps trying to lead her astray. This could be a swamp like any of the ones back home.

Some magical adventure _this_ was turning out to be _. Chased by something unknown and terrifying. Chased off a magical king that was known and somewhat terrifying. I don't know my goal. I don't know where I'm supposed to be going. I don't even know where I am. And I'm supposed to be at work in a few scant hours. Peachy._

If _he_ thought Sarah was going to break down and call to _him_ for aid, Jareth had another thing coming. She had managed just fine with the occasional Underground weirdness popping up Above on her own for the past seven years. The reverse could not be so very different. Now, if only she could truly convince herself of that, she would be set.

Sarah kicked at the low growing foliage. She liked to believe that she was mature and thought she had grown out of such a way of thinking, but being left to wander aimlessly just wasn't _fair_. The foggy-headedness that came from lack of sleep also started catching up with her. It had been mid-afternoon when she was displaced into the Underground, but by now, it was far past her bed time. She had not slept well the night before, either. Her want of sleep was quickly overriding even her stomach's protests of malnourishment.

She drudged farther, until the ground felt more firm under her feet. Sarah had yet to escape the swamp but she _had_ to be getting close to its edge. It could not go on forever. _What am I thinking? Of course it can. And for all I know, I've been walking in circles_.

Sarah stopped on a solid parcel of land and plopped herself gracelessly on the ground in frustration.

She knew stopping to rest was definitely an idea for the 'not very good' category. And it probably ranked up there somewhere between wishing her baby brother away to the goblins, pissing off her only potential ally so far on this particular journey, and allowing the goblins to make a KoolAid swimming pool in her bathtub. Though, in the case of the latter, it had been less of a matter of 'allowing' and more of a matter of 'finding that the little hellions already had converted it when she was not home to supervise them.'

She propped herself against the trunk of an old tree. Pretending that she was in her comfy bed and bundled under her feather comforter, and not in a buggy, smelly bog, Sarah fitfully succumbed to sleep.

Moments or hours passed, she did not know. The next thing she _did_ know was being wrenched out of sleep by a low, guttural roar.

Unseen birds shrieked and scattered, and amidst the cacophony and flurry of confusion, Sarah abruptly flung herself away from flashing, gnashing teeth.

The crocodilian creature that sprang from the tepid water dwarfed her. Moss of some sort clung to its ivory scales, while moss of another sort hung from its great, yellowed teeth. Its golden eyes were milky with age. Something so large and apparently blind should not have been able to move as quickly and precisely as it did.

The crocodile? Alligator? _Thing_ lunged toward her again.

Sarah did not have time to dwell on something as meaningless as species identification. She had no weapons, and she was entirely sure that whatever _it_ was wanted to eat her. She pulled a stick from a fallen branch, not sure what good it could do, but it felt better than having nothing.

_It's_ _not_ _even_ _sharpened_ , Sarah lamented. The woman made to jab at the creature to keep it back but only managed to enrage it further.

In the next moment, Sarah stared up dazedly as the crocodile's powerful tail swung around and swept her off her feet. And then the beast was bearing down upon her, bringing with it the stench of death and decay. Sarah was vaguely aware that she was screaming nonsensically, though the noise did nothing to deter the animal. Her stick was sacrificed as it hit home in the behemoth's soft palate, causing the beast to lurch back, momentarily, in pain. Sarah tried to push out from underneath the creature, but one of her legs was still pinned by its massive girth. The girl grappled mindlessly around to find something- anything- preferably a heavy, jagged rock. Just when she was sure the thing was going to turn its powerful jaws on her, it was gone.

There was a burst of shiny, glittery magic and, for a moment, Sarah saw _stars_. Not the kind associated with a blow to the head, but rather, tiny whirling galaxies and clusters of many colored pins of bright, twinkling light. The beast gave a horrible, keening wail and swiftly retreated back into the abyssal black pools before disappearing entirely.

Chest heaving, Sarah pushed herself up from her prostrate position on the ground. She caught a flash of blonde several paces away, but her rescuer could wait.

The woman rose to her feet and took stock of her condition. Aside from a shallow scratch on her leg and what promised to develop into a few gigantic bruises, she was miraculously unharmed. Finding herself whole, if not wholly unrattled, Sarah finally deigned to look up.

Jareth stood before her, and he was _furious_.

In the face of an angry Goblin King, Sarah very nearly wanted her new friend, Mr. Crocodile, back. She at least knew where she stood with _it_.

Saying nothing, the Goblin King grabbed her by the arm and pulled her along beside him. Moments later, the fog lifted, and the dank swampland fell away, leaving them alone on a sunny, grassy plain. Jareth released her and stepped away. Sarah looked behind them, seeing only a thin stream of vapor separating where they now stood, and the dryer, rockier land where she was sure she had entered into the swamp only hours before.

"You incompetent little fool!"

Sarah snapped back to the present. She though she caught a flash to his eyes that looked almost disappointed. But then it was gone, and he seemed content to continue his little tirade. Complete with exasperatedly irate hand gestures.

"Falling prey to the _mists_ of all things!"

At least he was _yelling_ at her now. _That_ , she could deal with. She had not known what to make of the quiet fury from moments before in the swamp.

"I was managing just fine, and I didn't need you to come save me!" That was, in this particular instance, a lie, and they both knew it. Sarah barreled on stubbornly, "I'm not some damsel in distress!"

At that, he chuckled darkly.

"Of course not. You are, however, the most distressing damsel with which I've ever had the misfortune of making an acquaintance."

"Well, if I'm so much of a burden, why bother helping me at all!? Your words and your actions say two different things, Goblin King."

He marched back into her personal bubble, and Sarah silently congratulated herself on not stepping back and away from him. Jareth's tone was venomously saccharine, as he inclined his head and smirked.

"Trust me, Precious-thing, were up to me, I would have let the crocodile eat you."

His acidity was terribly convincing, but something seemed _off_ about it. Sarah was missing something important, trying to solve the middle of a puzzle without first discerning its edges. It _had_ been up to him, had it not? And here she was healthy and whole, though she'd likely never get the mud out of this shirt. She decided to let the subject drop for now. She had bigger fish to bully into the frying pan.

_Speaking of-_

Sarah was about to do a very foolish thing. In following with all the other foolish things she had done today, what was one more added to the list?

"I don't suppose you could magic up some nonhallucinogenic tea and food? I'm starving."

Apparently, this caught the Goblin King off guard. He laughed, and it was warm and pleasant and the way a laugh was supposed to sound, completely lacking in the haughty derision of last night. The angry tension between them from scant seconds before melted away. His next words ruined the effect though, simultaneously incredulous and imperious.

"Thirteen threads stand between you and certain death, and you're asking me for _tea_?"

Before, when she ran his Labyrinth, Jareth had never revealed anything to her unintentionally. He _wanted_ her to ask; she knew this for a fact. But such brought to mind last night's failed bargaining for information, and Sarah did not think she was quite ready face his inevitable hostility again so soon. The woman squared her jaw, steeling herself. She could play his game.

"Yes, I suppose I am. If I'm going to negotiate with you and do this gauntlet thing, then I at least want to be properly fed. But if you can't-" Sarah shrugged at the end, and made to stride past him and continue on her way.

"Very well," he nodded as she passed him. He still seemed to be appraising her for something.

She paused mid-step and Jareth reached out, spinning her the other way around.

"But really, Sally, with your sense of direction, it's a wonder you solved my Labyrinth at all," he snarked, glibly.

"If I had a destination, I wouldn't be lost in the first place," Sarah bristled.

Jareth was just beginning to voice what promised to be a gratingly rude reply when the ground suddenly shifted beneath the pair, swallowing them up whole.

* * *

 

**Chapter Title Reference** : Peter Pan; no specific text.


	4. Down, Down, Down

**Chapter 3: Down, Down, Down**

* * *

 

_May 9th, 1986_

"Got another one, have you?"

The puerile cretins parted to reveal a curious babe, fresh from crying.

_As expected._

It was what the creatures did- take that which was offered, with or without their king's consent. The way it always had been and always would be.

He needed to fetch the girl; leaving her could prove deleterious, and the balance must be kept. Tapping his chin, the King resigned himself to his fate.

He rose from his throne and descended from the dais while the boy goggled at his new surroundings.

"Well, old chaps, it seems you have a mortal to torment. Get going! The rest of you lot, watch the boy."

The Shimmering of the goblins flittered like ungrounded electricity through the air, and the King felt them Fade to do his bidding, their bidding, even as he strode to a window and stepped up on the ledge. He paused, as if remembering something of great import, turning back to address the remaining subjects in his throne room once more.

"And if anything happens to the child, you'll all be suspended above the Terrible Howling Gulf. By your toenails."

The King slipped from the window, out of his world and into the next. And in the transition from free fall to flight, he _changed_.

_The only constant is change_.

It was a trite assertion from a long dead philosopher. He had been younger then, but not young. Now, he was older, but not old. He was too _young_ to be Tired, and so, he dragged his centuries along behind. Unsure if he controlled the passage of the ages, or if the ages bound him. Time he had at his disposal, but what did it matter if there were nothing else interesting in the whole of both worlds? His existence was boredom.

The very concept of flux rankled. For one such as himself, governed by Ordinances and Instruments of Fate, it was unattainable.

He ruled a vast and ever-changing empire in which nothing ever changed.

For all its tricks and shifting, the Labyrinth was the same as the day it was formed. The goblins were the same as the day he became their king. The courtiers. His subjects. The hapless, selfish runners. The wide-eyed wish-aways. The lands beyond the citadel. All the same and always the same. Monotony to the point of madness. Or, the king thought ruefully, at least to the point of awful alliteration.

When the tedium became too burdensome, he would steal time and visit the Overland. Some days, it worked to stave off the withering indolence. More, and more frequently, however, it did not. Although, recently…

The storm raged around him evidencing the flaw in the train of thought not pursued. _Fetching was tedious_.

His life had not always been drudgery, and even for him, the experiences and interactions had been novel and blithe. All once upon a time, before the Despair had faded into paralyzing bitterness.

His only respite was The Game. And luckily for him, The Game was on.

Until one day, this day, something was _different_. The thrill of it sizzled across his skin. He could taste the variance in the very air. Familiarity had given birth to something _new_.

Then, The Game changed.

He knew nothing would ever be the same again.

And, with dawning realization, he _hated_ it.

* * *

 

"Ooph."

Sarah landed with a soft, dazed thud that left her no worse for wear. The Goblin King, however, had not been quite as lucky. The wind was knocked from him by a jolting reacquaintance with the earth in addition to the weight of an adult human woman suddenly concentrated on his the solar plexus.

"If you wouldn't mind terribly removing your elbow from my ribs?" The king wheezed beneath her.

"Oh."

_Of course_ she had managed to land squarely on top of Jareth. At least _he_ had not landed on _her_. That could have opened a whole new can of worms Sarah didn't want to consider. That is, if he had not crushed her or impaled her on one of the pointer bits of his attire that were currently digging painfully into her back. She realized then that she had not yet complied with his request and rolled off the literally put upon monarch. Sarah didn't think she had hit her head, but that might explain her delayed reaction time.

And how he in turn managed to pin bodily her as soon as she scooted away.

That was not what was supposed to happen. _Hello, can of worms_.

They were underground, or further underground. There was no source of light so she couldn't _see_ him, but Sarah could sure as hell _feel_ him. Jareth braced himself above her, the weight of his hands bearing down her shoulders, keeping her in place, but farther down their legs intertwined and- _Sensory deprivation, that's all. Just my imagination running away from me. If there were light_ -

Well, if there were light, she might be making more of an effort to buck him off.

What was worse, almost worse, was that she could _smell_ him. Rather than repugnant, as she felt she probably smelled after her recent foray in the Icky Swamp of Doom, Jareth smelled absolutely, ridiculously, wonderful. All magic and leather and sunshine. It really wasn't fair.

And she must be concussed because his name was slipping past her lips before she could think to stop herself.

"Jareth?"

"Yes, Sarah?" He breathed in her ear. She hadn't realized that his face had been quite so close.

She may have shuddered. Just slightly. He noticed if his dark chuckle was any indication. Sarah flushed, thankful that he could not see her in the darkness. _Probably can't see me. Hopefully. Be just my luck if he could._

"It's dark," Sarah murmured smartly.

"So it is."

She could help the second shiver no more than the first.

Jareth's weight disappeared then, and Sarah found herself hauled up beside him. Her vision would have blacked due to vertigo had the environment not already been dark as pitch. The dizziness that assailed her threatened to make her sit back down. She could not see it, but it was not at all hard to imagine the smirk that danced on the Goblin King's face. The gloved hand that steadied her danced down her arm and away.

Sarah took deep breaths, bent and bracing her hands on her knees.

"Are you quite all right?"

She thought that almost sounded like sincere concern.

It didn't _hurt_ but there was something wrong with her head. She felt kind of fuzzy. It was the same foggy feeling she tended to get several days into a cold while heavily dosed on medicine.

"I think I might have hit my head."

If she had suspected such a statement would have him tangling his fingers through her hair and subsequently having those same gloved fingers run thoroughly and _tantalizingly_ along her scalp, Sarah would have kept her damn trap shut. If she shuddered a third time, he had the grace not to acknowledge it.

"I can find nothing."

Apparently, he'd once more moved closer while he was inspecting her. He was speaking directly into her ear again and her knees threatened to give way. It was quite rude really, and Sarah wanted a refund as her faulty knees weren't living up to their job description of faithfully bearing her weight.

This didn't escape him either, "Although..."

"Actually, you know what? I think I'm fine." She claimed, even as she felt the invisible room begin to spin around her. They _were_ in a room weren't they? A cavey kind of room? "Awesome. Peachy, even."

She imagined the dubious look he gave her as she felt a spark of magic along her crown.

For a while, there was nothing. But then, Sarah was floating and it was _glorious_.

"…think."

Words filtered in then, and she could _see_.

"You lingered too long-"

Shiny and shimmery. The air glittered. The air _sparkled_.

"-nearly consumed you."

She tried holding her breath. Like dust in a light beam. She'd played this game a thousand times. Don't breathe the dust.

"-quite the scare."

She breathed once more.

But _seeing_. Seeing was _wonderful_. She watched the light glimmer across the back of her hand.

" _Sarah_."

He was calling her by her name, again. Had he not always called her by name? That was important, her name, because it was hers. _Sarah, Sarah, Sarah._

" _Sarah!"_

His face wasn't happy. It looked kind of angry. And upside-down. It was really pointy too. Sharp. Like his teeth. Sarah giggled. He looked kind of like-

"And the Mists are consuming you still. You simply had to _sleep_ in that wretched bog, didn't you?"

Oh. Sleep. Sleep sounded lovely. Maybe she would-

"No! You have to fight it, Sarah."

The words were urgent. A plea. She didn't like pleas. Did she like pleas? She didn't think she liked pleas. She liked the air. The dust twinkled and was pretty.

She reached for it.

The next time he spoke, his voice was harsh and cutting.

"Failing your quest before you've even begun. I severely overestimated you, Sarah Williams."

Failing? She couldn't fail. Especially not in front of him. There was something about that which was inherently _wrong_.

But she didn't know what she was supposed to do. How was one supposed to fight this light airy feeling. Was it foggyheadedness? Her preferred methods for such were sleep. And maybe, ibuprofen.

"That's it. Just like that."

_What?_

She realized how close he was then. He was, in fact, cradling her head in his lap, touching something cool to her forehead. A crystal?

_No, crystals aren't safe. They could be snakes_. Sarah hated snakes. _Scarves are nice, though._

"Stop fighting _me_ , Sarah. I'm trying to _help_ you."

The minty touch disappeared, and she saw the sphere then, all cloudy and swirling and gray.

It was light but getting darker. Getting darker by the moment. And then the chilly pressure was back.

Why was her head in Jareth's lap? This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all. She was the heroine in this adventure. Heroines didn't need to be saved. They did the saving.

She never wanted and never asked for this adventure, in the first place. Hell, she still didn't even know what she was supposed to be doing. It was all his fault and it just, "isn't fair!"

Jareth smiled, and Sarah couldn't help thinking how nice it was when it wasn't colored by malice and derision.

It was too bad she felt too exhausted to appreciate it.

She saw the crystal float away as her eyes drifted closed. The swirling smoke was trapped within.

* * *

 

"-finally awake."

The difference between her first waking and the second since falling further below was much like the difference between waking late and naturally on a languorous Saturday morning and waking after being smashed into the ground by a flaming, flying toilet seat.

This latter scenario seemed incredibly likely. Why else would everything hurt?

Sarah tried opening her eyes and sitting up. Everything was so _bright_.

The groan was probably terribly unladylike and Karen would have been horrified, were she on hand.

Once attaining a sitting position, she cradled her head in her hands.

She had obviously not survived this hypothesized near-earth-object-falling-to-earth collision and had been sent to straight to hell.

"Come now."

She idly pondered why she had been sentenced to suffer eternally with the Goblin King as her jailer. She'd never cheated on her taxes or murdered anyone. She might be a tad selfish, but who wasn't?

"You have wasted enough time, already."

An angry green eye peeked through a gap in her fingers. His voice was grating. How could she have ever thought it sounded _attractive_?

But she owed him, didn't she? She suspected that whatever he had done had saved her life. _Again_.

After a few moments, Sarah mustered up the will to brave the light and catch his eye. Not that she needed to, he was already looking at her.

"Thanks."

It was grudging, but she said it. She didn't like feeling indebted to anyone. Especially not _him_.

"For what?" The Goblin King's head tilted, regarding her oddly.

_Is he seriously going to pretend like it never happened?_

Sarah's brow furrowed. "For- you know- saving me again."

He sniffed, disinterested.

"I've no idea what you mean. The crocodile was a one off."

_He totally_ was _._

Nothing made sense. He'd saved her. Twice. He wasn't doing it out of the goodness of his heart, and he obviously did not want to be around her. For some reason he would not acknowledge, he _needed_ her. He should be trying to use her rescue as leverage, at the very least. But here he was patently pretending that it had never happened.

_If that's how he's going to be, fine._

Sarah finally thought to take in her surroundings. Several of Jareth's crystals illuminated the space, and she was not incorrect in her earlier, cloudy assumption of being in a cave-like place.

"Where are we?"

"Below."

Sarah took a deep breath to temper her growing exasperation. They had things to talk about, that he essentially _promised_ they'd talk about, which would be seriously hampered if he persisted in acting like an ass all the time.

"Fine. Be that way. We have things to discuss. And you still owe me a five course meal."

She didn't know that a smirk could look _sad_. But he might as well be the King of Incongruity, so why not? That did not mean she liked that look, however. In fact, it made for a fairly disturbing picture, and she was grateful when it flickered away to a more neutral expression.

"You'll have to settle for this, I'm afraid. The Iron Mines are taxing on my magic."

Sarah recognized the words as the concession they were. He'd told her where they were, unhelpful as it turned out to be because she had no context. But at least she had not needed to figure out how to bully their location out of him. And he had given her-

A peach. _Of course it would be a peach._ But Sarah long ago overcame that little fear.

That wasn't to say that she was not apprehensive.

"It's not going to make me magically agree to whatever your conditions are is it?"

"What a novel thought. I must admit that your determination to distrust me is admirable. It's not poisoned. And that's the best that can be done under the circumstances."

"There had better not be any creepy crawley things living in it either."

Jareth's neutral expression brightened considerably.

_If I find a worm in this, I swear-_

Sarah was leery of anything that came from him, even if he had just saved her. She was racking up quite a debt, but this had been agreed to _before_ , or between. Well, not a peach, per se, but whatever. It was probably safe. _Hopefully, safe._

For once, the peach was exactly what he said it was. The fruit was a little tart for her taste, but that was probably better than the overwhelming infusion of sweetness that the last one she inadvertently accepted from him had. She felt better, too, after that first bite, as her aches and pains slid away alongside her hunger. Not poisoned, but still magicked. It was oddly _considerate_.

Once she was finished, she didn't quite know how to start. She regarded the peach pit in her hand, as if it might reveal the answers she sought.

"So," she let the little word hang for a moment before settling on her questions, "What's the deal then? Why am I here, and what do I need to do to get home?"

She looked up to find him inspecting a truly fascinating section of rock.

Jareth wasn't saying anything. The silence was tense and growing even more so the longer the Goblin King seemed disinclined to break it. He told her that she had wasted enough time less than five minutes previous, but now _he_ was the one wasting it.

_Well this is awkward._ Jareth seemed to be the type that needed to have the first and last word, so his apparent antipathy in this instance was disconcerting.

If she had not felt the urgent compulsion to get this Fairytale from Hell hell over with, and were the quiet not so oppressive, the silence could have been nice.

Sarah decided to change tactics. Perhaps if she could just get him talking, she could steer the conversation in the direction she needed. She bit her lip and went for it.

"You know, one time, I had to get a completely unnecessary rabies shot because of you."

His brows drew together at her non sequitur.

"And how could I possibly be responsible for such an offense?"

Sarah stood, stretching, and looked around. This was apparently safer territory in which to start, and she'd piqued his curiosity. _Good._

"Goblins. You're their king aren't you? Doesn't that make you responsible for them when they wreak havoc in other realms?"

"Hmm. It entirely depends on the havoc wreaked," His tongue made a clicking noise not entirely unlike a strict school teacher about to reprimand a wayward youth, "And I'm rather more interested in learning what they possibly could have done for it to be deemed necessary that you be inoculated."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

Sarah shrugged and started walking around the small was a passageway they could get through, but there was an identical one leading in the opposite direction. _Hmm. Which way?_

_She glanced at him and found that he looked vaguely irked._

Realizing he had her attention once more, he spoke, "I want to congratulate them on a job well done."

Jareth mimicked her shrug of moments before. Though, his version was far more graceful and far more haughty.

Annoyance was beginning to cloud her purpose. She'd already lost the tenuous thread she had planned to use to get him to tell her what was going on.

"Sure, you can be all Mr. Enigmatic and not tell me jack-squat when it's _important_ , but when I try the same over an inconsequential anecdote you get offended. That's a hell of a double standard, Goblin King."

She started toward the left passage. It seemed as good a guess as any.

" _Nothing_ is inconsequential."

His tone was low and foreboding. He must have realized this, for when he next spoke, it was with the practiced disinterest that Sarah was starting to suspect meant he was actually _very_ interested.

"I can't make reparations without knowing what I'm making reparations for."

"Forget I said anything. It doesn't matter."

"Upon further reflection, I don't care," Jareth called after her. "You're going the wrong way, again, Sabra."

Sarah threw up her hands and stalked back toward the right, while the king remained unmoving in the center.

The right passage was much darker than the left had been. She wouldn't be going anywhere without the king's glowing crystals to light her way.

"Can't you just magic us out?"

"Even were we not in the bellies of the mines, you are under the Geas of the Gauntlet. _I_ can't magic _you_ anywhere."

There it was again, the Gauntlet. Bingo.

Sarah stopped in her tracks and rejoined the Jareth in the middle of the cavern.

_Say your right words, Sarah._ She needed to be _specific_.

"So," She cringed internally, since that pithy opener minutes ago had done little to move their conversation forward. She pressed on, regardless, "This gauntlet thing. Is it a quest, or the thing stuck to my hand?"

He tilted his head in that way she was learning to hate.

"Ah, ah. Information is not free, and we've yet to establish a price."

"Well, what's the price then? And none of that funny business from before. Just tell me."

"You have something of mine in your possession, and I desire that it be returned."

That was impossible. She didn't have anything of his.

He must have read her face and the impending denial, for her soldiered on. "For my assistance, you must agree to return this object to me once you have finished your task."

That wasn't a mistake. It couldn't be. The Goblin King was a master manipulator of words, and _assistance_ went far beyond _information_. Whatever he wanted returned, he must want badly, if he was willing to subject himself to her quest. Though, she still wasn't sure that he had not set this whole thing up to begin with.

"What is it, this thing, that I apparently have of yours? I'm not blindly agreeing to give you back something, if I don't even know what it is."

He raised a brow, as though he were considering a particularly dull child. Exasperation didn't begin to cover what Sarah was feeling. Really, the only thing she could possibly have of his was… oh.

"The glove? If you want the damned thing back, then why?" _Give it to me in the first place. Unless. Unless he truly hadn't and that meant someone else-_ Her eyes widened. Could Jareth be a pawn in this little game just as much as she?

"Yes," she nodded, "I'll give it back."

Sarah swallowed thickly at the manic exultation her acceptance garnered. Perhaps, she had made a mistake.

"It is agreed, you shall return It once your quest is completed, and in the interim I shall assist you. Ask your questions. I will answer what I can. The longer we tarry, the more your chances of success diminish."

_Or maybe this could work out after all._ Though now that she had his cooperation, Sarah's mind went blank. Obviously she needed to get her goal out of him, but how specific did her questions need to be?

"My first question, then. What is the gauntlet? You keep making it sound like a quest, but you also keep referring to the glove itself. So is it both? How did this even happen?"

"The Gauntlet is an ancient rite. You threw down the gauntlet, and invoked the Gauntlet's Journey with your Touch."

"You keep saying that but it was just a normal glove when I found it at the store. I picked it up then and nothing happened."

"Of course nothing happened, you foolish chit. Invoking the gauntlet is powerful magic." The look on his face clearly expressed that she should know this. "It requires _sacrifice_."

He didn't seem inclined to elaborate that point, so she let it be for now. Whatever the sacrifice was she'd already made it, or she wouldn't be here. There were other, more important, questions at the moment.

"You said thirteen threads. There are already two. Is there some sort of trigger? How long do I have before the rest appear?"

"The threads can come at any time for any particular reason. Unlike that piteous human facsimile of a run, the true Gauntlet is multifaceted and varied. I cannot know what dangers you will face or when."

That wasn't the answer Sarah had been hoping for. She had thought that this misadventure might have an arbitrary time limit, like the run in the Labyrinth. But if the little golden strings could appear at any time, she could be Underground for days or weeks. _Or forever._

"You might want to check again. I'm almost certain you'll find another thread."

Sarah numbly turned her forearm and fingered the strands with her uncovered hand.

_One, Two,_ Three _._

"Careful, now."

The King of the Goblins was much closer than he had been, standing immediately before her and staring down at her intently.

Sarah flinched involuntarily. Apparently, the strings were razor thin and able to cut. Deeply. _Great, the next time I'm in danger, I can just saw at my enemies with my forearm._

Mental sarcasm aside, Sarah didn't need to look at the digit to know that blood was already welling. Cutting her fingers twice in twenty-four hours. She _must_ be cursed.

"Allow me." Without further warning, Jareth took her hand in his own. She half expected the warmth of magic whorling around her injured finger. However, the tongue swirling around it was a surprise.

Jareth acted perfunctorily and within seconds, Sarah's finger popped free from his mouth and Jareth's hand released hers with a flourish. Those few seconds, though, had been incredibly intimate, his eyes meeting and holding her own for the duration. But the blood was gone, leaving her finger completely healed- it was kind of gross, if she cared to think about it.

And like any sensible Above-born girl concerned for her sanity, Sarah blinked it away and decided to pretend that the interaction had never happened. He'd done the very same after he saved her earlier, so why shouldn't she get a free pass?

She projected a calm that she did not feel in the least and proceeded onward with her next query.

"So, what do I have to do to finish the Gauntlet?" She didn't like the way the word came out like a proper noun. It felt ominous.

"That, I do not know."

_Great. Excellent. Fat lot of help he's turning out to be._ There might have been another unladylike groan of frustration.

"Though I am bound not to tell you, I do know where you need to seek. Trust in me, and your direction shall be true."

Sarah could not immediately dismiss that she likely owed her life to the man. _That was worthy of trust wasn't it?_ But she did not need to trust him fully or blindly. She believed that he would guide her so that he could get his precious glove back, but only so long as helping her was to his advantage. She wouldn't quite put it past him to let her fail and then pry the damned glove off her cold, dead hand, if he thought it would yield a better result.

Sarah steeled herself, resolved to ask the question she dreaded most, "So, what happens if all thirteen threads appear? If I run out of time?"

He beamed, and it was utterly unsettling before the smile fell away. He didn't answer her, not verbally, but... _He already told you, remember? 'thirteen threads stand between you and certain death.' If I run out of time, I die._

She breathed deeply and sought to regain her composure. It wasn't completely his fault that she was overwhelmed by the prospect of what failure would bring.

Jareth clearly thought a change of pace was in order, as the mercurial king's next words approached playful.

"Now then, since all is settled, shall we go left or right?"

"But you already said left was the wrong way!"

He linked his arm with hers and winked.

"So I did. How astute of you, Precious."

He'd called her that, or something very nearly like that, earlier, before the ground had fallen away beneath their feet. But at the time the word had seemed a curse and not the term of endearment he was making it now. She decided not to dwell on this caprice; he gave her headache enough in regard to everything else. Like why he hadn't called a life debt on her. _Is this manky old glove really so important?_

Jareth set a spritely pace toward the right tunnel, only one of his crystals illuminating their passage as the other few were dismissed.

They travelled for mere minutes before Sarah noticed the skittering at the edge of the light's range. Surely, the king noticed it too, but if he did, he gave her no indication that it was of any immediate concern. His pace was set, and soon enough, they emerged in a cavern much larger than the last. The king and the girl made it several more paces before the angry shouts assailed them on all sides.

The pair were surrounded by angry little Hoggles. They obviously _weren't_ Hoggle himself, but Sarah believed that she and Jareth had stumbled upon his kinsmen. _His heavily armed kinsmen._ Despite the iron forged swords, axes, and _maces_ being bandied about, the Goblin King appeared wholly unperturbed. Jareth whispered, then, loudly and conspiratorially.

"Ah, Sabine, it appears we're going to market."

**A/N:** _ This chapter took me ages. (I, in part, blame the first section, which was the first thing ever written for this story but also the most revised.) I'll probably try to clean this chapter up a bit later, when I'm not utterly frustrated with it. Nothing that would make it necessary to come back and reread it, but for flow and readability and finesse.

Are you excited for the next part? I'm excited for the next part! Then again, I know what's going to happen, and I'm anxious to write it. Which hopefully means the wait between this chapter and the next will be shorter. _Hopefully_. I might, instead, take a few days to spew out the next chapter of 'Something Unusual, Something Strange.' I haven't decided.

Also, I am sorry for every reference to Sherlock I both purposely and inadvertently sneak into this. Those not so subconscious references to other things that I blatantly stitch in, I am not as sorry about. They're there for reasons. Probably not very good reasons but reasons all the same.

* * *

 

**Chapter Title Reference** : (Doesn't fit its initial inspiration, alas.) Rain it wets muddy roads/I find myself exposed/Tapping doors, but irritate/In search of destination -Damien Rice, "Eskimo"


	5. Went to Market

**Chapter 4: Went To Market**

* * *

 

_March 2, 1988_

Sarah lived for the magical time between school getting out and Karen arriving home with Toby. Particularly because the solitude granted her a chance to pursue her creative endeavors. On this specific late winter's day, the birds were singing, spring break twinkled on the horizon, and there were goblins destroying the kitchen.

_What in the-?!_

Sarah estimated that she had about twenty minutes to figure out why exactly they were venting their little goblin frustrations on her family's perishables and get the goblins _out_ before anyone saw them. If she was lucky, horseshoe shoved up her rear lucky, she would have enough time to sort through the mess too.

"What's going on in here?"

"Aah! It's the Girl-Lady!"

"What Girl-Lady?"

" _The_ Girl-Lady!"

"With the croutons!"

_Croutons_? This apparently made sense to the goblins as all paused in their various states of chaos infliction to murmur an appreciative 'ooh'.

"I know who _I_ am. Why are you all here destroying _my_ kitchen?!"

"Not destroying!"

"Finding!"

" _Not_ finding!" Another lamented with a wail.

Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and her thumb.

_So much for a relaxing afternoon_.

Seriously, it had been _months_ since the last incident and now _this_. She had to admit that they had truly outdone themselves this time. Flour dusted the ceiling, and she was not sure she was ready to contemplate the mustard on the cabinet doors.

Sarah took a deep breath in effort to summon the strength of will to deal with the situation.

She learned long ago that aiding and abetting goblin schemes tended to be far more fruitful in getting them to do what she wanted than raging and screaming at the creatures.

" _What_ are you trying to find then? Maybe I can help." _And get you Underground all the faster._

"Croutons!"

"Pure evil croutons!"

"King said purble!"

"Nuh-uh! Pure. Evil. Why would King want purple croutons?"

"Match jacket?"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh!"

"Quiet!"

Then again, a little screaming went a long way when they degenerated into aimless squabbling.

"Why do you need croutons? And what would make them pure evil? Purple we might be able to manage if I can find some food coloring. Or brownish, probably. What did the king _say_?"

"King said if he had to listen to us pure evil croutons one more minute, we'd all visit the bog. For free hears!" A squeaky goblin proclaimed.

"Not hears! Years!"

"For free years!" The squeaky goblin amended.

During the interim, one of the brighter- or perhaps dimmer; she couldn't rightly decide- goblins decided it would be a good idea to lick one of his compatriots.

"Don't taste like a crouton. Tastes like goblin. And socks."

"Duh. Because we're _pure evil_ croutons."

The licked goblin recovered from her shock.

"He took my flavor! Gives it back!"

Sarah still didn't get it. Whatever he'd called them, they'd butchered it to the point that she couldn't quite figure it out.

"But if he called you pure evil croutons and wanted you gone, why are you in my kitchen trying to steal _my_ croutons to take them _back_?"

"Better flavor." The sock-flavor-stealing goblin announced decisively as the sock flavored goblin tried to get at his tongue.

Sarah was _reasonably_ sure that the Goblin King didn't _eat_ the goblins. _Though, if he did, that might explain some things._

"King will like it! If we get him better croutons, maybe he won't mind that we're pure evil."

"Or purble!"

"Or purple."

"I'm not purble! I'm gray!"

"I'm pistachio!"

" _I'm_ purble!"

Sarah mentally counted to ten and forced a puff of air through her nose. She was never going to get anywhere with the little cretins at this rate. She still couldn't figure out the first part of what the Goblin King called them, and probably wouldn't if they had managed to turn 'cretin' into 'crouton.' If she dealt with them on a daily basis, she would probably threaten them with an extended bog vacation too.

"Okay," she decided, coming to a conclusion. "Right. He sent you away and called you pure-evil, right? So maybe you should take back some plain croutons."

The purple-loving goblin's lower lip wobbled threateningly. "Not purble?"

She couldn't afford a hysterical goblin at the moment. She just didn't have the time.

Sarah heard Karen's car pulling up the drive. _Oh, no, no, no, no_. She needed to make the goblins leave and fast.

"Here!" She grabbed a miraculously intact box of no frills, not purple, nor pure evil, croutons and shoved it in the nearest goblin's hands. She spotted a purple lollipop and shoved it in impending meltdown goblin's mouth. At the looks of jealousy, she snatched the remains of the Dum Dums bag and held it aloft.

"Everyone who wants a lollipop, follow me!"

Sarah led the troop up the stairs to her room where she had enough time to dole out the sweets.

"Okay, you've got your croutons. And I even had the awful idea of giving you candy. Now _please_ go back to the Labyrinth!"

"All hail Girl-Lady, the Crouton-Lollipop Fairy!" Static buzzed through the air as nearly twenty goblins disappeared simultaneously.

She had no time to revel in her temporary victory. There was still a stepmother to placate.

"Crap, crap, crap!"

The shriek of abject horror reached Sarah as she thundered down the stairs. If that was the sound the mess elicited, Sarah shuddered to ponder the racket Karen would have made had she been the one to find the goblins in action. She'd been spared that at least.

Sarah dove into the kitchen to find her stepmother in a state close to despair, hinging on collapse.

That would have been bad, given Toby was already attempting to escape from the woman's grasp to play in the mess.

Karen turned to her stepdaughter in a flabbergasted rage. It had honestly been a while since she had been the recipient of that expression.

Sarah glanced wild-eyed around the room. She had half a mind to send one Goblin King a bill for the damage.

"Um. Raccoon?"

* * *

 

"Do you really think these dwarves bear such close resemblance to your little Hogswallop? Look again, and pray tell me what you see."

He was right. They seemed rather more sinister than her cantankerous friend.

The king walked further into their midst, dragging Sarah alongside. After a moment, she jerked out of the grasp Jareth had on her upper arm.

"What the hell are you doing?"

A grin crept across his face, as though he were indulging a small child, his head tilted imperiously.

"You wanted a five course meal, did you not?"

"And this is going to happen by letting the Hoggles from Hell take us captive?"

Jareth's burst of laughter had the pointy ends of the weapons waving menacingly close.

_Great. He's gone barmy._

"He's a loud one. Lets cut'em up now, so we ain't got to later."

Sarah blanched.

The little piggy hadn't gone to market for the _shopping_.

"No, wait!"

On her Labyrinthine adventure, she secured Hoggle's help with plastic jewelry, which she was sadly lacking. She could only hope that Hoggle's covetousness was the rule and not the exception. And that he was actually somewhat related to these dwarves. If only she had something exotic to offer them-

Sarah searched frantically through her pockets almost afraid she would come up empty, until her hand closed around a small plastic container.

She pulled the small box from her pocket and held it up for all the dwarves to see.

"If you promise not to harm him, _or_ me, I'll give you these."

As Jareth had not yet been turned into a Jareth-kebab, it seemed she successfully piqued their curiosity. Now there was just the matter of maintaining it.

"An' what's to stop us from gettin'em after we kill you?"

_Well, damn, Sarah. How can you argue with that logic?_

Jareth was keeping ever so helpfully mum, apparently content to let her manage this fiasco. Which was fine. Totally. It was his big mouth that had gotten them into this mess in the first place, and she didn't trust it to not get them in worse trouble. Not to mention that since getting trapped down here, she felt far more dependent upon him than she deemed acceptable.

This was something she could handle just fine on her own. Over the years she had dealt with the goblin horde on a semi-regular basis. Crowd control and bribery were the tickets to success. If Sarah could manage unruly goblins, surely she could handle a dozen or so miscreant dwarves with an iron mace and pickaxe fetish.

"Sure you can kill us, but then you'll never be able to open it," Sarah shrugged noncommittally and rattled the container for effect.

"What's it do?"

Time to sell her bluff for all she was worth.

"This little box contains Luck Incarnate."

They crowded closer, and Sarah was pleased to note that their weapons were no longer poised for immediate strike.

"But the effects are unknown and can be overpowering which is why they must be taken in these small doses."

"How da we know it's not poison?" A particularly grumpy looking fellow asked.

It was a fair question since the contents of the plastic box were just shy of fluorescent orange.

Sarah popped the cap and tapped out a single, oblong pellet. She held the tiny thing aloft for all the dwarves to see before bringing it to her mouth. She stuck out her tongue with the orange breath mint on it for proof.

"You have to eat them a special way for them to work."

"How?"

_Hook, line, and sinker._

"I'll tell you once you safely get us through these tunnels and let us walk away free and unharmed. You're not getting them until then, either."

Jareth finally deemed it necessary to intercede and snatched the plastic pack from her hand.

"I'll be having one before you surrender them to that lot of repulsive little scabs."

_Yes, Jareth, insult the heavily armored, weapon wielding creatures that want to kill or maim us. Do it now when we're still right in front of them. What, they might make good on their threat to butcher us? Oh, no, please. I insist._

Luckily, the dwarves seemed to be too busy consulting in their little huddled group to pay any attention to the king's insult.

"Fine. But if these are our ticket out of here, _one_."

He eyed the open container and tapped out two. One was spirited away into the abyss of his cloak and the other flashed between incisors framed by a cheeky grin before the young woman could protest.

Sarah settled for glowering at him. _He's worse than a sugar-high Toby, I swear._

Whilst exercising her brow with her best annoyed look, Jareth's own furrowed in distaste.

"I never knew luck was orange-flavored, precious. I can think of a plethora of other more enjoyable options."

If looks could incinerate, Jareth would be a pile of ash on the cavern floor.

"Luck doesn't come in peach," Sarah snapped.

"I actually thought a nice raspberry-"

"Just shut up and choke it down, Jareth."

The creatures whispered amongst themselves for several more anxious seconds before their spokesdwarf separated and waddled up in front of the pair.

"Yeh've got yerselves a deal. We won't harm ya, but we're takin both yas ta tha king. Can't have trespassers down here without him knowin'. Then yous gives us the pills and tell us how ta make tha luck work."

It was probably the very best deal they would get out of the dwarvish creatures. And maybe, just maybe, the Dwarf King wouldn't kill them on sight.

She looked to Jareth only to find him studying her expectantly.

_Right. Making my own decisions._

Sarah gathered herself to her full height, hoping to convey the confidence she did not actually feel.

"Deal."

What Sarah expected to happen next and what actually happened next were spheres of possibility that did not coalesce.

To Sarah's consternation, rather than being immediately marched down one of the dank tunnels leading off from the central cavern, the creatures wandered off, ignoring the pair completely. The dwarves started milling about setting up, or probably continuing to set up, a makeshift camp.

Sarah could not contain her dismay.

"But the tunnels! You promised!"

The closest dwarf gave her a stare that she was sure indicated that she was mentally deficient.

"We ain't goin' nowhere 'til mornin'."

"Too late now," another nodded in agreement, "worms."

Sarah caught Jareth's smug grin out of the corner of her eye, though she was not sure whether it was at the dwarves' expense or her own. For her part, Sarah had no idea how worms could possibly be dangerous. The last worm she'd met here had been positively friendly. Well, excepting the other gross one she found in that peach. Actually, the possibility of worms inching en masse through the tunnels _was_ vaguely horrifying.

She was drawn out of her reverie by the dwarves leaping back from the appearance of a floating, orangey-white ball in the middle of the cavern. With the tenfold increase in illumination, Sarah could suddenly see the grand mosaics that had previously been obscured by the shadows. In addition, with the arrival of the sphere, the change in temperature was palpable.

"Iron. We're just up from the forges."

She could not help her startled gasp of breath from Jareth's intimate whisper directly in her ear from behind. She hated that she never seemed to hear him coming.

"They have iron swords. Doesn't iron kill you or something?" She queried baldly.

"Plotting to assassinate me already, love?"

Sarah rolled her eyes at him.

_Not bloody likely. You might be my only ticket out of this whole mess._

Wait. Blood- there was iron in blood. He must have tasted her blood when he healed her finger, but he seemed to be no worse for the wear. Sure, the thought just occurred to her, but she couldn't ask him _that_. He might _think things_.

Just when she didn't think he would say anything further on the matter, and that silence would reign supreme, he surprised her.

"Most things suffer if you perforate them," he offered conversationally, "Cold iron, or no."

"Oh."

"Your ancestors believed iron to be our greatest weakness. In the Overland, such an allergy is magnified and exposure is far more grievous. Traces won't harm me. Regardless, it would be best if we stay back from that." He nodded to the molten ball that was now glowing with heat. "It's unstable."

She blinked at how forthcoming that little spiel had been. It was probably the longest string of words he'd ever said to her at once. It was something of a pity that he was such a jackass because he really did have a lovely voice.

"And it would be just our luck for it to explode or something, huh?"

"Now, I wouldn't say that. I'd wager that you took care of the luck aspect quite handily."

He shook the container that he had yet to return before tossing it back to her. She caught it, barely having to juggle the thing to keep from dropping it.

"What about it? It just a pack of Tic-Tacs that somehow hasn't gotten crushed in the past day or so."

He crossed his arms over his chest in stern mimicry of a night long past.

"What's said is said."

The color drained from her face at his implication.

"Are you trying to say that I just promised to give a group of dwarves _real_ luck?"

"Words have power and consequence, Sabine. We've been over this, do you not remember?"

_Sabine, again_. That was the second time he'd called her that around the dwarves. If he were truly just aiming to piss her off, why not keep up with the plethora of other not-Sarah names? There was absolutely no chance that he had actually forgotten her name. He'd said it when she was delirious. She was sure of it.

"About as well as you remember my name, it seems," Sarah shrugged as if it were of no consequence.

His lips tilted in a fleeting grin before it slipped away. The air between them felt charged with sudden awkwardness. Awkward was not really something she could afford at the moment. Much less with her guide, no matter how infuriating he may be.

"I never said what kind of luck," Sarah mumbled, finding her voice. "For all we know, it could be horrible, rotten luck."

The tension in his posture slipped away as though it had never been. The facetious king rode again.

"Then the fact that you shall be sharing in whatever misfortune may befall me is balm enough."

_Smug bastard._

If she could say things and make them true, she would have to tread carefully with what she said while on this harebrained quest. Though if she could imbue tic-tacs with something as obscure as luck...

"Don't try it again. You are a novice, and the results would likely be disastrous." He intoned, making his way to an empty wall suitably far away from their supposed captors.

_Goblin King, apparent mind-reader, and resident party pooper._

There he plopped. Elegantly. Plopping with grace shouldn't be _allowed_.

The young woman was momentarily torn between following the king and staying close to the delicious heat given off by the molten ore. The big room was much chillier than the tunnel before it had been.

The fact that the iron ore was surrounded by potentially murderous dwarves decided it.

_Better the devil you know, than the devil you don't._

Sarah settled an appreciable distance away from the king, with far less finesse. The air was far colder on these fringes of the dwarf camp, and Sarah sought to take her mind off her discomfort. For a while, she prodded at her glove. It had not changed since they talked about it earlier, so there was really nothing more Sarah felt she could learn about it at the moment.

Restless, she broke the silence.

"Shouldn't they have tied us up or something? They aren't even guarding us."

"There is no need," Jareth said simply.

Dissatisfied that he was back to short, uninformative answers, she latched on to what he said earlier about the prospect of food. She miraculously wasn't hungry yet, but she knew she would be by morning.

"Last time I checked, captives were lucky enough to not starve, much less get invited to some grand feast."

"Don't think of yourself as a captive, then. Think of them as our escort."

Sarah groaned in frustration.

"That wouldn't change a damned thing."

"Wouldn't it? I have gained us safe passage through the more perilous parts of the mines, you really ought to be more grateful."

In the span of three short seconds, the Goblin King somehow managed to find her very last nerve and stomp it into dust.

" _You_? _You_ didn't do anything. _You_ nearly got us killed by mocking them. Hell, you probably led us straight to them on purpose for shits and giggles. I think the credit for this one goes to _me_."

She turned away, too angry at the moment to continue looking at him.

"Temper, temper, love. I must admit I was curious to see how you would handle the repugnant little beasts. Bribery is not a bad method but will not hold their loyalty for long. Fear is a far more pragmatic approach."

_Okay, Machiavelli._ Sarah snorted, shifting back against the wall to face him. He was far closer than he had been moments prior, and she never even heard him move. And at the non-distance he'd put between them she should have _felt_ him shift. _Again._ _How typical._

"Yeah, but if they like me, they'll be less likely to slit my throat in my sleep. You may have unlimited magic and a reputation for cruelty that precedes you, but us simple mortals have to use what we can."

Sarah was sorely tempted to scooch away, but she was cold, and her clothing offered little protection from the warmth-leeching stone. Not to mention that the body heat the jerk beside her was giving off remained terribly tempting, even though they weren't actually touching.

Sarah was suddenly very tired and in the end sat, rather than stood, her ground.

"Just whatever, Jareth, I'm going to sleep." Wrapping her arms across themselves, she did just that.

"You can be far more cruel than I, sweetling."

Jareth's whisper was probably a figment of her sleepy imagination. It had to have been.

* * *

 

Sarah was not sure what woke her up, but regardless, it woke her up far too early.

The woman grumbled something under her breath and made to roll over only to find that she could not.

She may have gone to sleep sitting up beside the Goblin King, but that was not how she awoke. Her mattress was warm, Jareth scented, and chuckling at her.

She extricated herself, blushing furiously, as the Goblin King made offhand, vaguely suggestive comments all the while.

But that was hours ago, just before the dwarves called everyone to march. The pair had missed, or not been invited to, any sort of breakfast the creatures may have had. Sarah was only mildly concerned that the molten ore-ball-thing was still molten, and apparently being used to light their way.

The heat radiating off the thing, which she had thought wonderful mere hours before, soon turned the air of the tunnels thick and close. Sarah had never given much mind to claustrophobia, even after being trapped in an oubliette at fifteen. But at that time, the air had been stale but breathable, now however, she could almost feel the tunnel walls closing in upon them.

As it was, the march was arduous, and by the end of it, Sarah was sore, sweaty, and horribly thirsty above all else.

Jareth, on the other hand, remained as pristine as always, showing no signs of discomfort or being tired. Quite in contrast to Sarah's own state, the king was humming some jaunty little tune. In fact, he had been downright jovial ever since she and he had struck their bargain. And Sarah hated him all the more.

At least for the moment she seemed to be no closer to her inevitable fate than before. She had felt around the strings on the gauntlet, relieved to find that there were still only three threads of doom. Her thoughts on the matter distracted her for a time, but she could never quite escape the foreboding feeling the passageway instilled.

Just when she thought she could not bear the suffocating tunnel any longer, it opened up to the largest, most magnificent underground cavern Sarah had ever seen. Not that she had terribly much basis for comparison when it came to underground caverns, but it was something straight out of Tolkien’s Middle Earth.

Sprawling as far as her eyes could see was a small city comprised of tents and lean-to's, all glittering black under odd, faux illumination.

It was _literally_ a black market, the young woman realized. An _underground_ black market. Their group halted in front of a sign that went as far as declaring such. Sarah laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Someone in this world takes naming of things far too seriously."

Jareth spoke then, for the first time since flustering her that morning.

"Perhaps your world does not take the naming of things seriously enough."

She never got the chance to retort.

"You two stay in the market 'til we fetch ya for the king," the creature in command nodded, the whole troop going off to tell their leader of the pair's capture.

"What? After all that, they're just going to leave us here?"

Jareth shrugged, unconcerned.

"In the meantime we can explore."

Sarah was still nonplussed that the dwarves had left no guards behind to make sure they didn't slip away.

"And no one will care? Can't we just get lost in the crowd and escape?"

The Goblin King just flashed her that annoying little toothy smirk.

"You can try. But it's unlikely you would succeed. Comings and goings in the Black Market are monitored."

Being able to wander freely, but still not freely enough to escape, almost seemed worse than being herded by the overzealous dwarf horde; the bustling marketplace was overwhelming.

It was the second time Jareth had thwarted her designs of escape from the dwarves, and Sarah was beginning to wonder just what he had planned. She thought to ask him such, but Jareth set off with purpose in his step, leaving Sarah dawdling behind. There were so many fascinating things to look at that she lost sight of the king a time or two. Luckily, he was taller than most of the market-goers and his flashy blond mop made him easily spotable.

She stopped worrying about keeping up with the man and set out to peruse the market on her own. She was relieved to find that amongst all the oddities, some of which appeared to be organs of formerly living creatures, there was also food.

"But I've nothing to pay with," Sarah complained as she turned away from a particularly tempting stall. Her Tic-Tacs were reserved, and she suspected that the bit of change she found in her back pocket would be less than worthless down here.

She decided to go off in search of the Goblin King.

But if she thought he would be a decent megalomaniac and offer to buy food, she was sadly mistaken.

"Why the hell not? We have no idea how long we'll be down here or even just traveling. I want to be prepared."

"I am without purse and the vast majority of my magic at the moment."

He said it like having future provisions for their journey didn't matter in the slightest.

"Aren't you supposed to be a king?" She tried, changing tactics, "Shouldn't they recognize you or something and know you're good for it?"

"Whyever would you think that? They're not my subjects. If you've failed to notice we're flying a bit under the radar, to borrow from your lexicon. Try not to draw undue attention to yourself, and try even harder not to draw attention to that," he nodded to indicate the gauntlet.

"Great. Just, great."

Sarah's empty stomach rumbled in sympathy.

* * *

 

Soon enough the dwarves came back, and Sarah reluctantly parted with her lucky breath mints. Not that the 'luck' had done her much good; she was starting to get an awesome headache.

And then they stood in the Grand Hall, before the Dwarf King.

She wasn't sure what she had been expecting the Dwarf King to look like. Maybe like the other dwarves. But-

"He's damn pretty."

Judging by the annoyed, or perhaps disgusted, look Jareth shot her, those probably shouldn't have been the first words out of her mouth.

'Pretty' also wasn't true in the strictest sense of the word, but the sentiment left Sarah's mouth before she took time to consider it. The whole mouth consulting brain thing didn't seem to be working out for her recently. She wondered if she could blame her faulty filter on residual effects from the brain-eating swamp mist.

"Calling yourself king now, Ferron? At my last estimation you were the Dwarf Lord. They're just giving the title away these days."

Ferron was certainly handsome, if you went for the towering, swarthy, barbarian manly-man type. The silvery scar that bisected his left brow and the height of his cheek only enhanced this notion. The _Lord_ of the Dwarves, as Jareth had deemed it necessary to emphasize that the man’s station was below his, was not a dwarf at all. And in fact, the Dwarf Lord dwarfed Jareth. Where Jareth was long and lanky, Ferron was long and muscley. Everywhere. Sarah wondered if any of the rulers of the underground fit their respective races because she was beginning to have her doubts.

The man lounging on his throne spoke for the first time.

"I am merely their lord and master, Goblin King, if that is the title they wish to bestow upon me, then so be it."

There was definitely tension between the pair of them. Ferron seemed to recall Sarah's presence and his attitude changed from venomous toward the Goblin King to subtly flirtatious toward her.

"I'd much rather hear about how you and your lovely companion came to seek respite in my halls."

"The Lady Sabine and I are weary from our travels," Jareth let the implication that they were damned hungry hang.

Sarah was momentarily more annoyed that he persisted in calling her that name. She was going to protest and tell the man her real name when Jareth gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. The only reason she saw it was because she'd been glaring at him whilst the Dwarf Lord was busy looking at her. Why didn't he want the Dwarf Lord to know her name?

Ferron seemed nice enough for someone she had known for all of two minutes, and he didn't seem to be on the best terms with Jareth, which really should have been a mark in his favor. But nothing was ever as it seemed in this place. While she didn't fully trust him, Jareth did not appear to want her to come to harm for his own oblique reasons.

_And if I do fail, he doesn't get his stupid glove back._

If the Goblin King didn't think she should give Ferron, Dwarf Lord, her real name, well, she probably shouldn't give Ferron, Dwarf Lord, her real name.

"Of course," Ferron, Dwarf Lord chose that moment to interrupt the pair's tenuous non-verbal argument, "Perhaps such tales would carry better over dinner."

Sarah was loath to spend another hour in this subterranean hellhole, much less another _night_ , which was precisely what would happen if it were already late enough for dinner. But what choice did they have? She might have insulted a king before, but now she was older and dubiously wiser. And Ferron looked like he could mow down a wild bear, if he had half a mind to.

Minutes later, Sarah and the Goblin King were situated at a cozy family sized table across from their host.

"Looks like it will be six courses. I did you one better."

Sarah rolled her eyes at Jareth's cheek.

After not eating all day, Sarah had to exercise restraint not to gorge herself on the feast set upon them. Her ability to slice her food was also hindered by the awkward clunkiness of the gauntlet.

Unluckily for her, the Dwarf Lord took a special interest in this fact.

"Your glove seems to be troubling you. Why do you not take it off?" Ferron queried silkily.

Sarah felt like a deer caught in headlights and tried her very best not to look like a deer caught in headlights as well.

"I fear I must be grievously offended that you do not feel comfortable enough to remove your armor whilst dining at my table," he pressed.

"I can't." _Think, Sarah, think,_ "The ties got wet and dried tight," she met the Dwarf Lord's gaze steadily. Looking guilty about it would only make things worse, even if she did feel utterly out of her depth, confidence in her lie was all she had.

Ferron seemed to turn this over in his mind with a speculative gleam in his eyes that made Sarah's skin crawl. How could she have ever thought he seemed _nice?_

"She's not running the Gauntlet, if that's what you're getting at," Jareth interjected.

"Then why does she wear the glove?" His tone was brusque, interrogating.

"That trinket? A mere bow guard made in facsimile," the Goblin King shrugged indifferently.

Unfortunately, that was not enough to placate the Dwarf Lord. Sarah was glad she had gotten to eat something because it seemed like they might be making a run for it, if Ferron's tense questions crossed the border into outright hostility.

"I see no bow."

"We lost all of our provisions in the fall. Isn't that right, Sabine?"

"Right," Sarah affirmed.

"Is that so? Then remove it."

Sarah dutifully tried to start undoing the razor sharp threads when she caught a movement from Jareth out of the corner of her eye.

"Jareth, would you mind?"

The king made a show cutting at the threads with his dinner knife and pulling the gauntlet down her arm.

Sarah was glad that her hair partially curtained her face as she was not certain that she quite managed to hide the startlement that lingered once she saw her own skin for the first time in nearly two days.

She'd regained her composure by the time she turned back to their host.

Jareth handed the glove to her. It certainly looked like the real thing, but it felt _less_ somehow. And despite the appearance of her hand and forearm, she was certain that the very same glove she held was still covering her hand. She held the gauntlet up for the Dwarf Lord to see.

"It's really just a glove."

She could tell that he was still not totally convinced, but she was confident that the prospect of immediate and impending flight had passed.

_But if he's really so magic poor right now, how did the Goblin King manage to pull that off?_

She would have to remember to ask later, once this particular mess was behind them. The lord across the table was speaking to her again, preventing her from dwelling further.

"You wouldn't mind letting me inspect it, My Lady?"

"Of course not."

He inclined his head and a servant dwarf materialized at her side to take the fake gauntlet.

Ferron turned the thing, examining it from every angle.

"Your sigil is it not?"

"Naturally," Jareth replied, suggesting boredom with the whole affair.

She could see the odd triangular symbol on the faux glove and narrowly resisted looking down to check if her real glove sported the same. _His?_ Why would the symbol she could never quite make out on her own glove be _his_?

"To look so similar, it is truly fine craftsmanship."

Ferron finally seemed satisfied enough, and she wasn't getting any real answers out of Jareth-

"Why would you think I had this gauntlet thing? What does it even do? What's so special about a worn-out old glove?"

The easygoing manner he displayed earlier on the throne returned to him, and a mischievous glam lit his eyes.

"Your paramour is not versed in our history. Shame, shame, Goblin King."

Sarah flushed a hot, angry shade of red. It couldn't be good for her blood pressure.

"I'm _not_ his _lover_ ," she spat. _So much for getting answers._

"Oh, married, of course. I never thought to see the day."

"Why would you- _What_?"

"I can always tell the married ones, Lady Sabine. Or would the proper title be Queen?"

Apparently Jareth was just as dumbfounded by the man's erroneous conclusion as Sarah. The difference being he was able to voice his malcontent in words.

"Me? Married to this rancorous cow?"

" _Cow_ , Jareth?" Her tone implied the man in question would be in trouble as soon as they were alone.

The Dwarf lord chuckled. Why did all the villainous jerks have to have nice laughs?

"I think you have not performed your wifely duties often enough, My Lady."

The blush from before was nothing. Sarah was quite literally seeing red now.

"Or ever," the Goblin King groused.

_Screw later._ That earned him a subtle, but powerful heel to the shin. The bite was unfortunately nullified by his knee-high boots.

Jareth flashed a sharp smile in her direction.

"She is truly not yours? That is not the story told to me by my dwarves. They said that even in repose, you kept her close."

"She is under my protection," Jareth claimed, "Collateral damage of a wish gone awry, nothing more."

"Were you not able to prove otherwise I would suspect that she is the one of whom they speak."

The Dwarf Lord settled back in his seat.

"Have you ever seen a runner with a companion?"

Ferron shook his head in acknowledgement.

Sarah felt out of the loop. Somehow, she knew she was missing something of terrible importance.

"That is undoubtedly true. But word travels fast, even here in the Lower Underground. _She_ has been _Seen_."

And that was when they started speaking in a language Sarah didn't understand.

For a while, she productively poked at her dessert, and idly recalled tales warning against the consumption of fairy food. _Too late for that. But if this gets me stuck down here, so help me-_

It was then that she noticed the way the dwarf lord kept eyeing her; his furtive glances made her uncomfortable. And now that she was paying attention, she heard her fake name being bandied about more than once. The subject of their conversation became all too apparent.

Talking about her in another language was plain rude.

On the bright side, Jareth looked a bit peeved.

Though, glancing up at Ferron made her question whether or not she should be enjoying her companion's discomfort. The Dwarf Lord's smile was broad and smug.

At realizing he had her attention, Ferron winked.

Oh god, he was flirting with her again. Blatantly.

Suddenly, Jareth pushed away from the table to stand. Thinking they had been dismissed, Sarah made to rise as well, only to be halted by the king's hand on her shoulder.

"Jareth, where are you going?"

"Until we meet again, precious thing, _good luck_."

Jareth disappeared right in front of her and cold dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She was vaguely aware of Ferron trying to talk to her. Perhaps even trying to allay her fears.

It all made sense now- why they were speaking that other, strange language. If she had known, Sarah would have most definitely put a stop to their bargaining. Or run. Or done _something_. Once again, Jareth had _left_ her, and what was more: this time, he had _sold_ her like _chattel_.

Sarah lost the ability to breathe for a full half minute. Luckily, her brain realized that it needed oxygen to continue functioning. Refueled, her brain hopped from shock to the next logical emotion.

" _That son of a_ -"

* * *

 

**A/N:** No, no, we can't kill Jareth. (Or me.) He's important to the narrative. (As am I.) Though, I suppose you could write him (or me) a strongly worded letter...

This was supposed to be up yesterday, but the site was being wonky and kept timing out. Sorry about that.

Sorry this took a while overall. This story is a bit cumbersome when it comes to the actual sequencing and writing. I find that I have to get the expanded outline/rough draft scribbled down, then let it dribble around through my brain for a while and fiddle with other things, before I can fashion these chapters into anything remotely readable. (That's also part of the reason I do so many one-shots. I can take ages agonizing over it and everyone is none-the-wiser since it's posted in one go.) Just something to keep in mind if it seems like it's taking a while between chapter updates.

At least I was productive (this fic, other fanfic, and fanart-wise) during the intermission between last chapter and this. Also, Ferron is mine. I already licked him. First dibs and all. There's a kind of shoddy visual reference for him if you're curious. Link's on my profile.

**Chapter Title Reference:** "This Little Piggy" nursery rhyme. (Super classy, no?)


	6. A Respectable Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm terribly sorry that this chapter has taken so long. I'm slow when it comes to writing. I'm even slower when it's hot and humid out. And chunks of this chapter just didn't want to be written.

_August 12, 1992_

Three hours he had taken, and three hours were all it would take.

Time was _his_ domain.

Time, and luck, and hopes, and dreams.

Those fundamental forces driving the Above were not their own, not truly. His kind may have lost the humans' favor over the eons, but these gifts bestowed unto that world were the Others' life breath.

What happened to time taken or time lost? It became _his_. His to bend, his to shape, his to _break_ , if he so chose.

Time Incarnate was the most fragile time of all, and he'd carelessly thrown Hers down the shaft and into the Dark.

Time taken and _Time lost._

Time taken was easy. Once dismissed, it took barely a notion to recall.

Fetching lost Time was a far more perilous venture. His by right, but only in name. In actuality, all things irrevocably lost had one particular destination.

But for Her, he would brave the Between.

Three hours were all he had- an infinitesimal span in the scope of all things. But those three hours were his _by right_ , were all he had to work with, if anything went according to plan.

He _needed_ to be successful; any longer and the Girl was doomed to die.

No reordering reordered time- it _would_ break then, and that had never been his intent. Not for Her, even in the face of Her defiance, or their shared history.

She carried on, living and being, blithely unaware of the mortal peril that lie in wait. And he was powerless to stop it, for by her own assertion he held no power over her, and her word was Law.

Save for those few precious hours he had taken. A safeguard they turned out to be. Or would be, once found.

_If_ found.

The Between was gray and unforgiving- the land of time, things, and people, lost- never to be found again. Except by him and his, and even that could not be guaranteed. He was just as like to be lost as any other in the drab half-world.

No human that gained entry to this most insidious area of his Labyrinth ever made their way out again, except the one woman-child that should have never been able to find the way in, in the first place. Their magic might have had something to do with that. Such a pity-

He found the bauble before he could complete his thought. It remained remarkably intact, even after all the intervening years, sparkling innocuously amongst the detritus. Plucking Her Time from its prison of broken toys, the crystal danced across deft fingers, sparkling in recognition.

For Her, he would be both that which he Was and that which he Was Not.

As long as his endeavor insured her longevity, he cared little how the Girl perceived him.

Three hours were all he had, and three hours were all it would take.

* * *

 

"What the hell did he promise you?"

"I do not-"

Sarah rounded on the Dwarf Lord.

"Don't give me that bullshit. You two were all chummy making sure that I was out of the loop, while you made googily eyes at me. Now, that asshole left me with you, and you'd damned well better tell me why."

He clearly had not expected her temper and for the moment appeared suitably cowed. Or perhaps befuddled was a more generous term.

"You are more fierce than you have let on, my Lady."

"What the hell did you think I'd do? Accept being left here without question?"

It was foolish- the man was nearly two heads taller than herself, and were she not so royally pissed, she might have thought better of provoking him and used a more civil approach.

"I am not a slave to be sold. He has no power over me. And neither do you. Now, out with it."

Ferron's brow furrowed. He spoke, but not with words she wanted to hear.

"Bound below, she was terrible in her fury. Freed above, she flew. Bound for all time."

If the Dwarf Lord thought quoting poetry was the way to her good graces, not only was he terribly mistaken, but he was also doing a terrible job of it. Sarah had just decided to tell him such, when he continued.

"You are her, aren't you? You're the Goblin Queen."

It was so out of left field that it actually took her several seconds for her brain to register and properly respond.

"What?"

It was the proper response. Sarah never claimed to be eloquent.

"There is no other explanation."

"Whoa, whoa, back up. What the hell did Jareth even say to you?"

"It's true," He said with some conviction, "After all this time returned to the Underground."

The Dwarf Lord was ignoring her, and the woman clapped her hands in front of his face as though he were a disobedient dog. Probably not the best approach, but at least she had his attention again.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'm not her. If I were the _Goblin Queen_ , why would the Goblin _King_ leave me?"

Having been so sure moments ago, Ferron fumbled, at that.

"But you look like her. Raven of hair-"

Sarah snorted, "My hair is brown."

Ferron's eyes flashed. Brawny and _pissed_ would not be a good combination.

"Sorry, but I'm just saying whoever she is, or was, or _whatever_ , I'm not _her_. I'm just" _Sarah._

_Well that had been a close one._

"Me," she finished lamely.

He looked skeptical, again. Like he was trying to see her properly but was miserably failing at his self-assigned task.

"You will stay in the rooms prepared for you tonight. We will discuss this further in the morning. Come, I will lead you, myself."

_Can't have the prisoner making a break for it after all._

"Like hell," she muttered. He clearly wasn't going to spill. She just needed to play along until she figured out her next move.

For the moment, Sarah allowed herself to be led through the twisting passages of the Ferron's stronghold.

If she could just get a moment alone to think, she could figure out how to get away and get back to wherever it was that she needed to be going. But the one person that was supposed to be leading her had ditched her, and Sarah wondered if she would actually be able to find her way without him. If she only knew her destination, she would be fine, but she did not, and her current predicament made her want to scream. She barely even knew what her actual goal was, and that was assuming that anything the Goblin King had told her was true.

Sarah was beyond angry at Jareth. Outraged did not even touch the scope of what she was currently feeling.

_Nothing unjustifiable there._

Lost in her thoughts, the young woman lurched to a stop in order to avoid crashing into the Dwarf Lord's back. Being the weird pseudo-barbarian gentleman her was, Ferron caught her arm to steady her.

Her _left_ arm.

Sarah froze.

_He's touching the gauntlet. He feels it. Oh crap, oh crap, I'm doomed. Shit-hell!_

Ferron's eyes widened in realization. The gauntlet could not be seen, but it was there all the same. His grip around her arm tightened painfully, until he let out a hiss and recoiled. Realizing what must have happened, Sarah yanked away from the slackened grasp he had around her other arm.

_Finally, someone other than me gets acquainted with the damn sharp-ass strings from hell._

The Dwarf Lord turned to her in full fury and Sarah thought he would strike her down where she stood. She braced herself, ready to run in the next instant. Instead, the most curious thing happened: Ferron's eyes glazed and he stumbled away in confusion.

"My apologies, Lady Sabine. I am unsure what came over me."

It was as though the last minute had never happened.

"I am not well. You will have to excuse-"

Sarah never learned what exactly she needed to excuse because Ferron keeled over mid-sentence. Sarah was torn. Under any other circumstances, she would immediately call for help, _try to help on her own_ , but this was her chance, maybe her only chance, to escape.

He seemed to be breathing fine and the dwarves would find him eventually, but she couldn't shake the feeling that just leaving seemed like a bad idea. She would inevitably be blamed for whatever it was that happened to him. It may have technically been her fault, or the glove's, but the idea of not being able to defend herself did not sit well with her. Leaving a note to try to explain seemed like an even worse idea.

_I'm wasting time. I need to get out of here while I still can._

"Sorry," Sarah whispered to the unconscious man, hurrying off in the direction from which they had just come.

* * *

 

"There has to be another way out of here," Sarah groused some turns later.

Well there really didn't _have_ to be. From what she could tell, she was hundreds of feet below the surface of the Underground with no way out other than the way she had come in, but she hoped she would find the way out soon. The Hall of the Dwarf Lord was labyrinthine- connecting and twisting in all sorts of interesting ways, but having made her way out of an actual living maze at fifteen, she felt that she was not too off her mark in aiming for the exits. She didn't think she was lost at any rate, and after fifteen minutes of speedy wandering, she had not even run into any guards.

She didn't know how long her luck imbued tic-tacs would continue to bring her luck. Though she had no evidence they were doing so now, and in fact, she had all evidence to the contrary. That was if Jareth wasn't lying to begin with. But he had wished her _luck_ before he vamoosed. _Did that mean something, or?_

And then there was shouting vaguely from where Sarah had left Ferron. Of course, the moment she thought she was home-free on the guard front, they would start pouring out into the halls in droves.

_Whel-p, guess there's no use in trying to be stealthy anymore._

As was her new favorite pastime, Sarah ran. At full speed, the stone corridors were even more confusing, and she made several twists and turns that she was sure would end badly. Luckily enough, they did not. She broke free of the small hallways and found herself in the big stone room where Ferron had first received them.

She startled several actual dwarves in the process, and may have drop-kicked one when he made a grab at her, but Sarah didn't slow her pace until she made it back to the makeshift city. It was night, she assumed. The hustle and bustle of earlier had tapered off and the streets were near empty. She kept to the shadows and picked her way carefully through the subterranean town. No one was scrambling about trying to find her out here.

_Yet, anyway._

Nothing made sense. If Jareth wanted rid of her so badly, why work so hard to make sure she survived thus far? He wouldn't have even had to do anything. He could have simply not cleared her mind of the brain-draining mist, or better yet, never come to her aid in the mists at all. Or even that first night when she had been running from that thing. She still had no idea what had actually been chasing her and-

"It took you long enough."

As fate would have it, the Goblin King in question, and not the creepy mysterious thing from the forest, chose that instant to insinuate himself into the path of Sarah's most current grand escape.

Sarah had never been so happy to see the Goblin King in her life.

_No, 'happy' isn't the right sentiment. Relieved. Yes, relieved._

Because she was still _pissed the fuck off_ and markedly _un_ happy with the whole situation. Jareth realized this and raised his hands in what she thought was meant to be a placating gesture as he stepped closer to her.

" _You._ " Sarah infused every ounce of venom she could muster into that single word.

"Now, isn't the time, I'm afraid."

Jareth pressed one long, gloved finger to the woman's lips to forestall her oncoming tirade.

Sarah was hard pressed not to bite the appendage, stealth be damned. She stopped herself mainly because he was squinting thoughtfully at something in the distance. She thought she could hear a far off commotion reminding her that they were far from safe in their present location.

"You can extoll all my villainous merits later. You failed to make a clean break. Really, precious, I expected better." Jareth pulled her along, and she groaned.

"Yeah, well, next time I'm leaving you to the sharks without half a clue what's going on. And I'm holding you to that whole permission to yell at you thing. The minute we're in the clear."

The wayward king flashed her a grin, and Sarah was almost startled out of her run by his genuine mirth.

"But of course, it would only be _fair._ "

"And just what have you been doing, anyway?" She huffed. It was hard to keep up with him; he had long legs and a stride to match.

Instead of answering, Jareth flung a bag at her. Sarah fumbled, but didn't drop it. He was lucky she knew a thing or two about catching a running pass from that one season of basketball. That was before she ran the Labyrinth and decided she really was not all that fond of running at all. Funny how the running thing seemed to be coming back to bite her in the ass at present.

"Why can't you carry it?"

"Because it's yours, of course. Come, now, Samantha, I do rather think we should get on before our luck runs out, don't you?"

She did stop mid-stride, then.

"Running out of two syllable names starting with 'S,' Goblin King?"

Jareth growled something incomprehensible before turning back and pulling her along again. The Goblin King ducked down one of the larger tunnels, and having little alternative, Sarah followed. He stopped after a few more turns. It was dim but not too dark to see, not that Sarah particularly cared; she was glad for the reprieve. When she _did_ get back home, because she would and she refused to think that she might actually die from this little ill-conceived venture, at least she would be in awesome shape.

"I had hoped you would stay put until I was prepared. I rather suspected you would not, however."

" _Stay put?_ How the hell was I supposed to _know_ to _stay put?_ " She thought better of adding: _I mean, have you met me?,_ and ultimately settled for, "Just what the hell did you promise him?"

She lamented the fact that she was a bit too winded and far too tired to start yelling at him properly, regardless of the danger they still might be in. He'd stopped, so Sarah thought they were probably good for the moment.

He waved a hand in obvious dismissal.

"He wanted to court you, so I left him to it."

" _Really,_ " the young woman pressed, skeptically.

"He seemed to be deluded into the belief that you were docile and delicate. The fool actually thought he was rescuing you from my most nefarious clutches."

"Yeah, yeah, so Ferron's not the brightest crayon in the box. What did he promise you that had you so eager to ditch me? Hmm?"

Jareth huffed, obviously exasperated by her line of questioning.

"Supplies, naturally. Pity we had to leave the goats."

"You _sold me for a herd of goats?"_

The man was treading dangerous waters and stamped onward with a grin and without a care.

"Seven is hardly a herd, love. And it was more the other supplies I was after. You came to the Underground woefully unprepared."

Again with the pet names. She almost missed Sally and Saiorse and all the other ridiculous names he called her by. _Except Sabine._ She _hated_ that one. It was easier to be annoyed by him when her was being purposefully infuriating. But things like, 'love' and 'precious,' almost didn't seem to be a conscious choice.

Sarah glared at him, and when he did not respond further, she glared back at the way they came.

"They can't follow us. We've crossed the Great Salt Gate."

"So, what, dwarves don't do salt?"

"As amusing as your erroneous conclusion could prove to be, we have simply moved beyond their territory. We'll stop here for the time being so that you may compose yourself."

Sarah was still annoyed by his very existence, but she it was not as though she could just not acknowledge his presence for however long she was going to be stuck with him. It was, however, better to be stuck _with_ him, than stuck _without_ him, Sarah reasoned. She settled against a wall some distance away from the Goblin King.

"Clue me in next time you plan on deserting me to fend for myself."

"It wouldn't have been believable had you thought otherwise."

_I guess he has a point._ She was a decent actress, but when it came to blatant, every-day lying, her poker face sucked.

"Aren't you honor bound to your agreement with him or something?"

"I offered only your time, the length of which was never specified. Furthermore, Ferron caused me great offense in the past. I am allowed reciprocal action." He blinked, and then sneered. "Such a pity I wasted it on that."

Sarah could quite literally see the mischief that crept into his expression, even in the gloom of the tunnel.

"There's still time if you want to go back and sack the market," Jareth offered.

"Are you insane? We'll get caught, for sure."

"Dwarves are more cowards than anything. And you've already given them more than proper motivation to steer clear of you."

"How do you even? Nevemind." He had been spying on her, obviously.

"If we aren't going to get our coin's worth with the market, we might as well be going. Territory disputes won't work in our favor forever."

"So, that's it, then? We just escape, and poof we're good to go? No repercussions?"

"Don't be daft. Ferron will try to curse you."

Sarah screeched, incredulously.

" _What?_ Did you not think that was worth mentioning before now?"

"Nothing will come of it. He lacks your true name."

_Oh, well, that was oddly considerate._ She filed that tidbit about true names away to examine later.

The more she thought she had the Goblin King figured out, the more she realized that she didn't have a damned clue about him _or_ his motivations. _Wait. Did that mean he actually put himself at risk?_

"But what about you? He knows who you are, Jareth. Who you _actually_ are."

"Concerned, sweetling?"

Well, she _had_ been kind-of, sort-of vaguely apprehensive right up until 'sweetling' had made a reappearance in his vocabulary.

"Call me sweetling again, and swear I'll bite you."

He paused, suddenly just behind her rather than in the lead, voice pitched low, as he murmured directly into her ear.

"Promise?"

Sarah let out a frustrated huff.

"You're insufferable!"

"And yet you must suffer me a while yet," the king called chuckling after her, "Nothing that fool could do would harm me."

The young woman stomped off in the only possible direction, not bothering to check that her traveling companion followed.

* * *

 

They wandered aimlessly for days.

_Days._

"We're lost," Sarah deadpanned. It would have had greater dramatic effect had it not been the umpteenth time she made that particular assertion.

"We are _not_ lost," Jareth growled. It also would have had greater dramatic effect had he not uttered that very same retort just an hour previous.

"What ever happened to 'trust in me and your direction will be true'?"

He stopped in front of her but did not reply to her goading. He was probably trying to blow her up with his mind, but at the current moment, Sarah was beyond caring.

_Apparently men are the same everywhere: never stopping to ask for directions and not admitting when they are damned lost._

There had not actually been anyone to ask for directions, but Sarah felt that was beside the point because he still would not admit to being lost, in the first place.

"We are not stopping here."

For an instant, Jareth's tone reminded her of various ill-fated family vacations where her father would threaten to turn the car around if she and Toby didn't stop squabbling. She missed that. She missed the sun. She missed fresh air. But most of all, she missed regular baths. They had come across a spring the day before, so at least she did not reek, but the near constant dark was weighing heavily on her sanity. The company wasn't much help, either.

"Could've fooled me. I seem to have stopped. And oh, look! Now, I'm sitting down," Sarah quipped as she plopped gracelessly and began rifling through the magical supply bag Jareth had procured.

The Goblin King did not deign reply to her obvious defiance, not that she had really expected him to. After what she had viewed as a breakthrough in their mutual communication just days prior, they had almost completely stopped talking.

They at least had adequate supplies, but even with a bag that was bigger on the inside and deceptively light, their reserves would not hold forever.

The king worked his magic in bursts- complaining loudly at its lack and moaning about the time he had to spend recharging his metaphorical magical battery.

Now, it seemed, was one of those bursts, as light grew slowly from a crystal to stave off the inky black of their surroundings.

Much of their time was spent fruitlessly blundering forward in the dark. Either Jareth really did have a block on his magic while they were in the tunnels, or he was a damned good actor that lived to torment her.

With the way he constantly, 'accidentally', kept bumping into her, and her subsequent hyper-awareness of his presence despite the complete darkness, led her to believe the latter rang more and more true.

But the pair didn't _talk_ to each other. Their only conversations were carried out in monosyllables when stopping for food or rest.

And 'rest' had her flustered enough _without_ the addition of his sudden bouts of apparent clumsiness. Her sleep was hardly _restful_ when he insisted on keeping so near to her. Sarah would swear that she felt his arms wrap around her at night, right when she was at cusp of falling asleep. But she always woke up alone with no proof of him being any nearer than sprawled by her side.

So, she never mentioned it, and neither did he.

The incidents could have merely been a delusion of Sarah's mind, but she somehow doubted it. She liked to think that the Goblin King was just as off put by their situation as she was, and was simply reaching out for whatever comfort he could get in an admittedly creepy and sneaky way.

But her musings on his behavior neither here nor there because for the moment, they had _light._

Light had become a precious commodity, and with its presence, Sarah compulsively checked the glove for changes. While she expected the fourth thread to appear after their escape from the dwaves, it never came. She was beginning to wonder if there was some disruption to the pattern she completely and utterly missed. The Goblin King had indicated otherwise at the beginning, saying that they would appear at random, but he had lied to her before. _Why should this be any different? He always likes to have the upper hand._ And the first threads all appeared after something happened. The fact that there were still only three felt left her feeling disconcerted.

Come to think of it, the light made her paranoid and waspish, and Sarah let her arm drop back to her side so she could be paranoid and waspish later.

It was good that she did as in doing so, she noticed that the air in their current location was different. It was less stale and-

"Jareth, it smells like salt."

"We have been wandering the salt mines. Everything smells like salt," the King groused.

He was being contrary because she made him stop. Sometimes, Sarah thought the Goblin King was moodier and more angst-ridden than she had been as a teen. She followed the scent and thought she saw a different, non-Jareth-sourced, light in the distance.

"Goblin King, send your glowy light ball over here. I think I've found the way out."

Jareth's face was caught in a disdainful grimace, as though he couldn't decide whether he was insulted or annoyed by her lack of respect for his magic.

_Hmm. Probably insulted and annoyed. Serves him right,_ she thought uncharitably.

Sarah knew the crystal held far more dangerous potential than she had suggested, but at the moment it was doing little more than floating and glowing. _It's not my fault that he's currently using it as a flashlight._ And the lure of freedom from the tunnels had her more than a bit stupidly giddy.

She tried again.

"Oh, great and powerful Goblin King, will you please send your Glowy Light Ball of Doom over here to aid the failing eyes of a frail mortal girl."

It was suitably dramatic and expertly delivered. She may have only minored in theatre, but she was a damned fine comedic over actor when the situation called for it.

After an apparent internal war, in which he likely weighed the pros and cons of cutting his losses and deserting one sarcastic mortal female and finding his own way out, Jareth stepped up behind her and directed the crystal ahead with a flourish. Once doing so, even he saw the brilliance of her find.

No more than thirty paces ahead was a translucent wall. If it was salt-rock as she thought, then they should be able to break through somehow. It didn't seem to be terribly thick, if the sun could shine through.

The king examined the wall, scratching away at the surface with a knife he apparently had not thought to share earlier. He sniffed at the crystalline powder and confirmed her assumption.

"Clever girl," he said wonderingly.

After days of constant tension and lack of communication, Sarah could not help the laughter that burst forth.

If Jareth had said something like that to her just a month prior, she might have taken the compliment in stride. As it happened though, Toby had nagged, begged, and pled for her to take him to see the dinosaur movie Karen was certain would give him nightmares. Sarah, of course, thought that was complete nonsense and purchased a pair of tickets for an opening day matinee. She was a wonderful big sister, truly.

Sarah had nearly laughed herself out until she glanced up and took in Jareth's disgusted sneer. The thought that popped into her head was just too ridiculous, and she doubled over in mirth.

"I take it back," Jareth announced, turning back to prod and test the thickness of the translucent stone. "You're an addle-brained twit."

He began chipping away at the salt rock with what she supposed was magic and brute force.

Sarah finally sobered enough to join the king, making a show of examining his profile. This earned her a baleful scowl, which failed to stop her subsequent observation.

"You know, if I turn my head this way and look at you, you bear a striking resemblance to a velociraptor."

Sarah broke down into giggles again, leaning slightly against the wall to stop from completely doubling over. She really needed to get out of the tunnels of the Underground, if annoying the Goblin King was turning out to be the most fun she had in recent memory.

For his part, Jareth struck the stone with greater force than was entirely necessary and three things happened at once.

First of all, the first natural sunlight either of them had seen in close to a week spilled into the cavern.

Secondly, salty sea air rushed up to greet them as the outer wall of their modest little tunnel crumbled away to reveal a sheer drop.

Finally, Sarah had been leaning against that particular wall more than she had previously thought and tumbled out into the bright light. She imagined mocking voices from her childhood memory pressing around her, pressing for an answer, "Up or down?"

Any choice Sarah might have had was ripped away by gravity and the winds of a vicious sea.

"She chose down!"

"She chose down?"

As she fell away from him, Sarah could not decide whether the Goblin King's face was more relieved or horrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N since it's been a while: DUNDUNDUNdramaticreverb.
> 
> See? It was a good thing we didn't kill Jareth (and/or me) after the end of last chapter. Agreed? Agreed. Even if he is a pedantic, self-satisfied, rat bastard, he's not without a method to his madness. Probably. As a side note, the pedantic-ness is partially why you only get his POV in flashbacks. He can be a bit tedious to read.
> 
> Yes, I've literally been sitting on a Jurassic Park reference for over a year. You can thank that scene for actually making this story happen to begin with; it amused me when this story was little more than a couple of mental images and a smattering of scribbled dialogue. So, in essence, you have my love of dinosaurs to thank for this whole mess. I'm also probably the poster child for why one shouldn't start posting a story before it's one hundred percent written, but at the same time, knowing that others are expecting it makes me actually write it, rather than just thinking, 'hey, I should write that,' and never following through.
> 
> I will try to get the next chapter up in a more timely manner. (Though, I do need to get through the next chapter for SUSS, first.)
> 
> Chapter Title Reference: Until I realize that you've realized, I'm gonna say these words to you. –The White Stripes, "You Don't Know What Love Is"


	7. Fearful of the Night

_June 4, 1989_

 

Sarah Williams was officially a high school graduate. Most of her friends were still out partying, or probably passing out, by this point in the night. But Sarah, having endured the familiar tension created any time her birth parents occupied the same space for the duration of the morning and better part of the afternoon, had wanted nothing more than to go to sleep after the obligatory post-graduation family dinner. Unfortunately, this meant she was wide-awake and experiencing a mild post-graduation existential crisis at two o’clock in the morning.

 

After several minutes of navigating a mind too full of thoughts while futilely trying to find a comfortable position, the restless young woman opted to get up. She felt her way around the pitch-black room- lucky for her, Sarah had never been afraid of the dark. Unlike most, she knew very well that fairytale monsters were real. Fearing them, or where they lurked, would only give them power over her.

 

Besides, without darkness, how could she ever hope to see the stars? 

 

As she had so many nights before, Sarah completely disregarded her stepmother’s numerous warnings about the dangers of heights and climbed up on the roof of her family’s two-story Victorian home, hoping that the clouds from yesterday had moved along to grant her a clear view.

 

Luckily, the skies were in her favor. Sarah quietly navigated to her favorite roost and settled in to think. Or not to think, preferably. She did not want to contemplate majors, or what her friends would be doing, or even the summer job she would be starting next week. That left the stars, themselves.

 

The twinkling beacons were ancient, inexorable, and made her feel so small. No one seemed to stop and look at the stars any more. No one she knew, at least.

 

She would not be able to look at them much longer, either. Only during vacations and visits home. The city lights where she would be going to school come fall faded the stars into inky, dim obscurity. She would have her independence at the cost of the stars. It was not so great a price to pay, really. It wouldn’t be forever, after all.

 

It may have not been something most people would find themselves missing, but sometimes, when Sarah spied the stars from the corner of her eye, they  _danced_.

* * *

As far as falls went, Sarah had experienced worse, within the last week especially, but thus far, she probably had not experienced  _weirder_. With the winds and waves breaking over sharp rocks below, she figured she ought to be dropping like her GPA the first semester of college when she decided not to study for her biology midterm. Though, instead, her descent was slowing with every passing moment; she was definitely accelerating, but in the _negative_ direction, in much the same way as she had after jumping to save Toby on a night long past.

 

Whatever, or more likely  _whoever_ , slowed her down ultimately did not stop her abrupt reacquaintance with gravity mere feet above a sturdy ledge. Her landing was not exactly soft, but Sarah thought that on a scale from ‘stuck the landing’ to ‘squishy human pancake,’ ‘slightly bruised tailbone’ was not so terrible an outcome.

 

“I’m okay!” she called up to the Goblin King, now far above.

 

She could just make out his figure, she thought, leaning perilously out into the winds. He held out a hand, possibly with a single digit pressing her to wait a moment. Then again, he could have been flicking her off; her far vision had never been the best in the world. 

 

The Goblin King called down to her, though all but one word was lost to the winds: "There.” He then held up a hand in an unmistakable gesture of stay.

 

_Unless it’s some rude Undergound hand gesture, and he’s just covering his bases as far as rude hand gestures are concerned._

 

Sarah was in much better humor than she had been just minutes prior. Even if she currently happened to be trapped halfway up a cliff face, at least she was out of those awful tunnels. Natural sunlight plus post-fall adrenalin had the young woman rapidly approaching giddy. And she even still had her bag, which was excellent. The wind was whipping her hair into her face, which was significantly less than excellent and bordered on being more annoying than her resident closet goblin that liked to chew holes through her good sweaters.

 

The young woman absently pulled her hair up into a more serviceable ponytail style while contemplating the mess that her apartment might be when she finally got back. This train of thought was bound to lead to annoyance and stomach ulcers, so she instead decided to take a more thorough inventory of the things Jareth had gathered at the Black Market and shoved into her pack. Adequate light was good for things like that, dim crystals and dark tunnels, not so much.

 

Sarah had halfway organized the bag’s contents according to weight versus usefulness when she decided to check on what the Goblin King was planning. Her timing was impeccable, really. The man shifted and twisted before her eyes and was replaced by a much smaller creature. An owl, obviously.

 

_I’d forgotten._

 

That, despite her current situation, irritated her. _How_ could she have forgotten? That was the form he had used to frighten her on their first meeting, and the king left her the same way at the end. But the memory had faded completely, until it returned to her on this day. It might not have been so much that she didn’t remember, but rather that she opted not to think about it. While at home in her world, there had been no reason for her to contemplate anything relating to the Goblin King himself, at least not with respect to his ability to transform. If anything, she should be grateful for the reminder to not become complacent in his company.

 

Further musings were interrupted by an indignant, blood-curdling screech- the owl apparently could not control its flight, and Jareth was tossed about by the winds she had so recently escaped, herself. He managed to get close to where Sarah was situated and made a dive for a nearby ledge, only to be slammed against the cliff face instead.

 

And then, the owl dropped. Sarah traced its rapid descent until the creature landed somewhere farther below. She reeled in shock at how quickly their situation deteriorated. The woman laid flat and peered over the edge of the rocky surface, witnessing as the owl transformed back to Jareth’s familiar shape. He was precariously spread over a ledge with far less real estate than the one she occupied.

 

After that, the Goblin King remained still. 

 

“Jareth!”

 

No response. Not even a twitch.

 

 _He was fine. He was fine._  He was the Goblin King and something Other than mortal. He  _had_  to be fine. She wasn’t actually worried for him. No way. _Maybe a little bit._ He may have been the cause of all her recent problems, but she did not actually want him to come to harm. This was simply the normal reaction anyone would have after witnessing someone play live-action pinball with a cliff. She needed to keep calm and get down to him, first of all.

 

Up to this point in her life, heights were not something Sarah had given due consideration. While she had never actively had a fear of being up high, she had never considered rappelling or the like to be worthwhile hobbies, either. The cliff was not as sheer as she had thought from up high; there were plenty of little ledges and handholds, and Sarah had an idea.

 

“There _has_ to be a safe way down,” the woman declared.

  

And there was, she found.

 

Sarah had seen nothing move, but suddenly, she could discern a path that would lead her straight to her target with minimal need for finding handholds or creative cursing. She was unsure if it had appeared due to her assertion, or if it had simply been there all along.

 

They were stairs, she realized. Honest to God _stairs_. Roughly hewn, but serviceable enough. She shoved the rest of the bag’s contents back in and set off.

 

Her descent was arduous and slow. The winds had only grown stronger, and there were several occasions she thought she or the unconscious king might be swept away. Luckily, the rock and Sarah’s death grip remained strong.

 

By the time she inched her way down to the Goblin King, stormy thunderclouds had started to coalesce, with night closing in fast behind them.

 

She faintly remembered the desperation she heard in Jareth’s voice after her own misty misadventure. Their current situation provided a near perfect mirror to that one. The primary difference lie in the fact Jareth knew the steps he needed to take to help her, whereas in the reverse, Sarah felt utterly helpless. 

 

Sarah hesitated to touch him, unsure of the exact extent and nature of his injuries, though she had little choice but to do so- the ledge was not large enough to permit otherwise. She found him breathing, but he showed no signs of reacting to her touch.

 

 _What can I do?_  

 

She didn't have any magic. She had limited medical knowledge. She did know that being knocked out and unresponsive couldn't possibly be a good thing. And the sky was about to give way to a deluge that neither they nor their tiny perch were well suited for.

 

Now that she and Jareth were at least on the same ledge, the first order of business was to get out of their current predicament. Sarah began to frantically examine her surroundings. She dared to peek down at the rocky shore below- closer than it had been, but still several stories beyond a survivable fall, and there was no way she could possibly scale the rock with the king in tow, even if the cliff-stairs led all the way down.

 

She leaned back against the wall to collect herself, only to have it shift subtly behind her. Sarah turned and prodded at the rock curiously, pushing it aside to reveal a sizable opening behind it. 

 

An hour or two prior, returning to the close, tepid tunnels was her absolute last desire. But at the first strike of lightning and the first drop of rainfall, Sarah found herself dragging her unconscious charge along with her into fissure that led back into the dank unknown.

 

Only it  _wasn’t_  dank, or dark, or foreboding. The atmosphere was warm, cozy, and more closely resembled the interior of her gran’s summer cottage than the sort of tunnel she  _should_  have been encountering at that exact moment.

 

“Well shut it back, girl! You’re letting in a draft!” 

 

The not-tunnel-cottage also happened to be occupied.

* * *

It was a stroke of luck that Sarah accidentally broke into Effie and Irey's home, so perhaps her wildly invented tic-tac story had some measure of credence, after all. She quickly decided that the best thing about the elderly couple was that they didn't ask any overly invasive questions like, 'where did you come from?,' ‘who are you,’ or, 'what are you doing in my house?'

 

In fact, the pair seemed happier for the company, and asked for nothing return for their hospitality. Sarah remained wary, nevertheless, particularly after the fiasco that was her stay in the dwarf kingdom. Her real name was something she did not give, nor did she volunteer the particulars of her quest.

 

“Sadie, you pay that glove more attention than that young man down the hall, and that’s saying something.”

 

Just because she did not ask outright, did not mean that the little old woman was not astute. 

 

And her observations were, unfortunately, true.

 

Jareth had been laid up for two days now, and Sarah could do nothing more to help him than she already had. The old man, Irey, had been a healer of some sort in his younger years, and had assured her that Jareth’s unconsciousness was due to protective shock more than any sort of head or spine injury. He even went as far as saying that the king should be back on his feet in a few days. Though with Jareth’s perpetual inert state, Sarah rather doubted it.

 

As she sat by the man’s bedside, Sarah absurdly thought of how Sleeping Beauty was brought back with a kiss. She wondered if it would damage his ego if Jareth found out she equated him to a fairytale princess. Sarah chuckled despite herself. _If anything, it would appeal to his vanity._ Besides, that sort of revival only worked with ‘true love,’ and Sarah did not think that her and Jareth’s tenuous partnership qualified. 

 

She was not cut out for waiting and worrying. Once Sarah decided to do something, she went about setting her plans in motion. Sure, there was always the chance of failure, but that didn’t bother her as long as she knew she had tried.

 

Unfortunately, her only recourse was waiting, with her silly musings barely covering the gnawing anxiety in her gut, for him to wake on his own. Sarah volunteered to routinely tend Jareth’s few minor abrasions the way the old man had shown her with bandages and salve. To lesser success, the young woman also forced water and broth down Jareth's throat at regular intervals, though these efforts somehow tended to end up with a magically pristine Goblin King and a slightly damp Sarah. Not being able to expedite his recovery or continue on her quest made her feel indecisive and so  _powerless_.

 

 _If he doesn't wake up soon_  …

 

“You need to hovering, dear. He’ll wake up when he wakes up, and not a half-hog’s minute before,” the old woman had admonished the day after they arrived.

 

After that, Sarah stopped hovering by Jareth’s bedside every waking moment, and started only hovering for a quarter of her waking moments. The rest of her time was devoted to ensuring their continued welcome by helping Effie and Irey when needed and figuring out her next move. With the gauntlet being her primary concern, the structure tended to end up as the focus of her attention.

 

There were five golden threads crisscrossing the eyelets, now. No more had appeared since she and Jareth had been waylaid. The king had indicated otherwise, but Sarah was beginning to think of them as markers of major events of her journey so far. She counted them off on more than one occasion- one when she arrived, the second after surviving the first night, the third after the king brought her back to herself when she was stricken by the mists.

 

The last two, however, appeared together- at some point between her final conversation with Jareth in the tunnels and when she thought to examine the glove after she and Irey had gotten Jareth settled. She decided to ignore this fact, and attributed one to her meet-and-mad-dash-away-from the dwarves, and she decided the last thread marked their escape from the tunnels. Sarah wondered idly if she stayed in this little old cottage forever, would the threads simply stop appearing?  

 

With her life on the line, she really could not afford to wait and find out. If the Goblin King did not wake soon, Sarah _would_ have to continue the journey on her own, destination or no.

 

But could she even remotely hope to figure out where she was supposed to be going without Jareth? She still did not know what her ultimate goal was, and she was determined to get that much out of Jareth, if he ever woke up. She could not necessarily trust him to tell the truth, not when it might leave him at a disadvantage. But now, he was not the only source of information she had to draw from.  

 

The old woman, Effie, was a historian, or the Underground equivalent of one. Sarah had heard Irey call her ‘the Chronicler’ or something to that effect. ‘Historian’ suited Sarah just fine; it did not sound nearly as ominous and foreboding. That was not to say that the woman was the sort of historian that recited dry, blow-by-blow accounts; Effie was, at heart, a storyteller, and had taken to regaling Sarah with histories of the Underground at any given opportunity.

 

Sarah was hesitant to fish for information the way she had been so ready to do with Ferron. For one, she did not want to inadvertently land herself dragging around a convalescent king if the pair reacted to the subject of the gauntlet adversely. There was also the minute chance if she did ask, that Effie would not tell her the truth. Though warier than she had been in the past, she quickly discarded that notion- the old woman had far less motive to lie to her than the Goblin King on virtually any topic Sarah could think of.

 

On the afternoon of the third day, Sarah decided to take the risk.

 

"Do you know any stories about gloves?" Sarah ventured, only slightly out of the blue.

 

“Do I know stories about gloves? ‘Course I do. I'm the Chronicler after all. It's my business to know stories about gloves."

 

The old woman paused in her knitting and Sarah tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. 

 

"But I think you have a particular story in mind.”

 

Sarah’s breath did not catch in her chest. Nor did she back pedal. But she also did not quite manage to meet the elder woman’s gaze, in vain effort to give off an air of nonchalance.

 

“I do. If you are willing tell it.”

 

The tension and evasiveness Sarah expected failed to materialize.

 

“It's a long one, but you look like you could use a good, long story or two. But you’ll have to tend the stew, my dear, and help Irey with the vegetables.”

 

“I’d be happy to,” Sarah agreed easily, if not a bit eagerly.

 

Effie smiled, sat back in her rocker, and began to tend her knitting as she spun her yarn. 

 

“Once upon a time, there lived a queen…”

* * *

 

  That night, Sarah dreamed her first dream since coming underground.

 

She found herself walking with no true destination, as one often does in dreams. She was not Sarah as she would know herself in waking, but that did not matter. She had no destination, but she _did_ have a task.

 

Through forests and deserts she unwound golden thread tethered to a spool. The fine gossamer strands trailed in the wake of her steps, marking and creating and building and binding. She had set the trap a thousand times, but this time she felt an undeniable sense of urgency. It was not the trap after all, but the marking of the path that would free her. The spool was gone from her hand now, though the thread still followed, all the way to the most magnificent-

 

Sarah forgot whatever was supposed to be magnificent when she woke to a suffocating weight on her chest. She opened her own eyes to a feral grin and a pair of eyes sparkling with malice. She thrashed- or she tried to. Sarah couldn't move and the mad creature was crushing her and choking her. But it was not a creature; it was Jareth, distorted and wild. She tried to scream. 

 

And then, Sarah opened her eyes. Her sudden mobility had her shooting upright and scooting into the wall before she became fully conscious of the fact she had been dreaming the whole time. Though that last bit had definitely been a nightmare, or, probably more aptly, sleep paralysis.

 

“Sarah?”

 

She flinched briefly when a familiar gloved hand touched her shoulder. The young woman took deep, calming breaths as her heart rate slowly went back to its regular, steady beat. She was awake, truly awake and no longer dreaming, and _this_ Jareth wasn't trying to crush the life out of her. He actually seemed somewhat concerned as to her well-being-

 

It was at this point her brain caught up with processing the information it was receiving.

 

“Jareth?! You're awake!”

 

Her brain must have not been totally up to speed because with this pronouncement, Sarah threw her arms around the king and started mumbling half unintelligible things to the effect of, “I was so worried.” And, “you are so stupid.” After a moment, she realized whom she had in a desperate hug, not Toby, or a close friend, but _the Goblin King_ , and extricated herself.

 

She had not meant to acknowledge any sort of worry as to his safety, and since he got to pretend he didn’t do things like save her life or swoop in for unconscious cuddles in the tunnels, then surely, Sarah could pretend that the past several minutes never happened.

 

“You really shouldn’t be up,” she admonished, noting for the first time that the man no longer sported bandages and had in fact been awake long enough to change his clothing. Jareth was magically all-better if the newly formed impish grin was anything to go by. _Magically_ being the operative word.

 

“Curiously, I do feel as though several days ago, I decided to take a jaunt off the side of a cliff and smashed myself into the ground at an appreciable rate of speed. But I’m quite well at present, thank you. Now, where have you brought us?”

 

Sarah wondered just how long ago he awoke. He had been characteristically unresponsive when she decided to go to bed, and now it was probably some time in the wee hours of the morning.

 

“I don’t know where we _are_ , exactly. It was getting stormy by the time I reached you, and we needed to get to somewhere safe. After that it’s a bit fuzzy, but there was a loose rock covering an entrance, so I thought I’d be dragging us back into the tunnel system, but we ended up in this old couple’s house instead. Irey called the thing we came in a ‘Porticul,’ or something like that.”

 

His manner shifted toward the end of her recount, and the intensity of his interest in that moment was almost overwhelming. 

 

“You opened a Porticul? From the wrong side?”

 

“How could it be from the wrong side?” She retorted. “Irey called it something like an anywhere door.”

 

 “If you survive the Gauntlet, I might just apprentice you myself.”

 

Well, _that_ was a bizarre pseudo-compliment if she had ever hear one. Effie and Irey hadn't seemed to think much of her less than conventional entry into their home. She did not imagine it to be exactly common, but with a portal like that, surely they got unexpected visitors every now and then. 

 

“Can’t all you magical Underground people do that sort of thing? You just magicked yourself better. I only opened a door.” 

 

“From the mere trace of a past opening. A feat like that requires an extraordinary strength of will and no small amount of magic.” Jareth’s brow furrowed in consideration, “Though I suppose you were likely drawing from my own magic, which explains why it took me so long to recover. Perhaps not quite so remarkable, after all.”

 

 _Yes, he did just call me a leech. And unremarkable. How flattering_. She was beginning to think she liked him better when he kept his stupid, pretty mouth shut.

 

“Even if I did somehow manage to use your magic, I could have much more easily left you to die on that cliff,” Sarah said in a flippant tone.

 

“Ah, yes, you still find me so odious, Precious,” He challenged, “why didn't you?”

 

“Because I still need your help.”

 

“Is that all? I seem to recall not five minutes prior a confession of worry.”

 

“So what if I was worried? You’re my friend,” she snapped.

 

Sarah was surprised to find that she meant the words that tumbled unbidden from her mouth. She had adamantly insisted to herself that he was not, but Jareth was the closest thing she had to a friend this go around. She crossed her arms and adopted what was likely a stubborn expression.

 

“You drive me crazy, and you’re probably only doing this whole thing for personal gain, so you’re not a very good friend. But you’re my friend, and I couldn’t just let you die if there was anything I could do about it.”

 

“Sarah Williams,” he said her name like an invocation. A thrill shot up her spine and whether it was mere physiology or magic, she did not know. “I must say your taste in those you offer friendship has altered dramatically for the better.”

 

Sarah snorted.

 

“But the fact is, I owe you a debt.”

 

The last word carried a weight with it. _Why does he always have to make everything so dramatic?_

“No, you don’t. It’s what friends do. Well probably not normal friends, but whatever. Besides, you saved me several times whether you admit to all of them or not.”

 

She tapped her chin in mock consideration. “I probably have a few to make up for, actually.”

 

“Those were in direct accord with keeping you safe until you reach your destination,” he countered.

 

 _Operation: ‘lighten the mood’. Status: failure_.

 

“Even that first time where you came back to help me after you stormed off in a bitch-fit?”

 

Jareth did not deign to acknowledge that fact. “You were under no obligation to ensure my continued existence under such circumstances. This falls outside our bargain. Whether you acknowledge this debt or not, it remains true, and it is not my custom to be indebted to anyone.”

 

She didn't like being in the goblin king's debt, but that would be paid with the gauntlet and hopefully not her life. She liked to think of the goblin king in her debt even less. It seemed just as dangerous a proposition. 

 

 Though, something niggled in her brain about that former point-

 

“Right, now, we should be going,” Jareth segued, as he rose from the cot only to kneel in front of her half-packed bag.

 

It took Sarah an instant to process the Goblin King’s abrupt change in subject. He surely could not be serious. 

 

“ _What_? It's the middle of the night!”

 

“All the better.”

 

“You’ve been in a _coma_ for the past three days. And the first thing you want to do when you wake up is _leave_?”

 

“Yes,” he answered in a tone that grated on Sarah’s nerves.

 

“ _Why_?”

 

“You were dreaming. It’s not safe.”

 

Sarah rolled her eyes. _Of course. More cryptic Underground stuff._

 

“I'm not leaving until morning. At the earliest. So, put my bag down and stop repacking it. And anyway, now that you’re awake and not possibly dying, we need to talk about the Gauntlet.”

 

She wished she had a camera to capture the look on Jareth’s face. The austere haughtiness in his expression fell away. Somewhere in the glittery, blond poof, Sarah imagined that alarm bells must have been going off. The panicked expression was fleeting, but it had been an entertaining glimpse, all the same.

 

“On second thought, I'd rather go back to sleep.” He stood up from his place on the floor to return to his own bed, but Sarah stood as well and blocked his path.

 

“No, you’re not. I had an interesting conversation while you were napping.”

 

“Is that so?” Jareth asked coolly.

 

“Yep. I also realized that you never actually specified what I would owe you for your helping me. There's no way that the gauntlet is what you want from me once this is finished. So what is it? What did I promise to give you?”

 

Jareth looked beyond her, toward the moonlit window.

 

“Damnit, Jareth, if you’re trying to think up an excuse-”

 

“A memory.” He mumbled half-distractedly, before turning his full attention to her. “You owe me a memory. You won't miss it. It's not yours to begin with, and I would have it returned.”

 

“Then whose memory is it?”

 

 _“Mine_.”

 

 _Okay, then._  She wanted to ask the obvious questions, including but not limited to: what, how, and why, but Sarah knew from his demeanor, she would not get any further elaboration on that point, at least not at the moment.

 

At some point during her musings, the room had become significantly darker.

 

“We really must be going, Precious. The same way we arrived, preferably.”

 

 “No, we have to talk, and I already told you-” The Goblin King forestalled the remainder of her tirade by turning her to face the window. In the shadow, a pair of eerily illuminated yellow eyes peered back at her from the other side of the crystal panes. A painfully shrill scratching began when the creature realized it had her attention.

 

It was trying to come inside.

 

“ _What_ is _that_?”

 

“I can’t be certain. Your dreams attracted its attention. We need to remove ourselves before it finds a way in.”

 

“But what if it _does_ get in? And what about Effie and Irey?!”

 

“It’s _you_ the beast wants.”

 

“But-”

 

“They'll be fine. Let’s go.” Jareth took a firm hold of her arm in one hand and her bag in the other. He unerringly led her down the short hall and into the sitting room, stopping before an innocuous-looking closed door.

 

“Now, you’ll need to open the Porticul.”

 

“Can’t you do it? I don’t know how.”

 

“We do not have the luxury of time.” His statement was punctuated by louder scraping and taps from outside.

 

“Focus. Do what you did before, to bring us here. For now, we simply must get as far from here as possible.”

 

“Okay, but if we end up on that cliff again you're going to be the one to get us down.”

 

“Yes, yes,” Jareth groused impatiently, but never released his hold on her upper arm.

 

Sarah concentrated, twisted the knob, and nudged the door open.

 

The pair pushed through, leaving the comfy abode of the elder couple for the sharp salty air of the open sea. There was no wind, and the still ocean calmly reflected billions of stars and galaxies. The pair almost definitely had not reappeared on the cliffs from before, though Sarah could see them looming faintly on a paling horizon.

 

As if a spell had been broken, the ‘ground’ pitched sharply, and the pair was assaulted by a cacophony of sound. Jareth yanked Sarah back before she could stumble into the pointy end of one of the swords that were drawn and surrounding them from all sides.  

 

Having narrowly escaped becoming a Sarah-kebab, the young woman voiced her opinion on their recent turn of luck.

 

“Okay, this is just getting ridiculous.”

* * *

**Chapter Title Reference:** Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

-Sarah Williams, from “The Old Astronomer to His Pupil” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this on ff.net, but I always forget about AO3. If in doubt, check my profile there first, for updates.
> 
> Author's Note (May 10, 2015): I know this hasn't been updated in over a year, but I just wanted to let people know that it hasn't been abandoned. Because this is a tricky story for me to write style-wise, I've decided that I'm not going to post any more chapters until I have a complete rough draft so that I can more easily pull together the appropriate foreshadowing, character introductions and development, and flashbacks. (As of right now, major parts of it are still just a very thorough outline. Though, I've added some fun twists and turns since I last posted).
> 
> Honestly, I've been burnt out on Labyrinth stuff lately, and I'm currently focusing on different stories and fandoms. My goal is take a break for a while and focus on drafting the rest of this story during NaNoWriMo '15. I know that's a long way off, and definitely not what people want to hear. But I think it will be better for the story in the long run.
> 
> Also! If you haven't checked my profile on ff.net already, there is a link to a one-shot that I wrote for LabyFic Winterfest which will be worked into this fic. I also periodically update my profile with what I'm currently working on and planning to write. Until next time, Labyrinth fans! Thanks for your encouragement and support!

**Author's Note:**

> Fan art for this story can be found on my deviantart account linked in my profile.
> 
> The chapters will get longer, but these first few are a tad infuriatingly short. Sorry.
> 
> Chapter Reference: In pitch dark, I go walking in your landscape/ Broken branches trip me as I speak/ Just ‘cause you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there/ Just ‘cause you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there. –Radiohead, “There, There”


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